


Secrets

by notaguitarfret



Series: "They're all girlfriends" AU [14]
Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Bullying, Childhood Friends, Discussions of Sexual Assault, F/F, Fluff, friendships, ngl this chapter is quite soft, sorry it's been a while, tw misgendering of pre-transition character, yw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 11:38:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19440697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaguitarfret/pseuds/notaguitarfret
Summary: Heather Chandler and Heather McNamara are still arguing, and Veronica needs a damn break.





	Secrets

_Would be nice if the doctor called me back some time soon,_ is all Duke could think as she left the stall, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand in case of any excess spit of vomit. Waiting by the sinks was Emmy, who was bouncing off the edge as she waited for her return.

“Done,” Duke said, slowly making her way over to her, her head feeling heavy and her legs feeling as if they wanted to give way at any moment. Mac glanced at her, looking concerned. As usual.

“Do you feel okay?” she asked. Duke rolled her eyes.

“I’m fine, honestly.”

Mac stared at her, her eyes picking apart the flimsy lie. Duke felt her skin heat up with discomfort, and she sighed.

“Heather, it’s fine,” she assured her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Mac’s brows furrowed with uncertainty. “Look, I’ll be getting a therapist soon, okay?”

“Are you just getting everything out before then?” she muttered in reply. Duke was taken aback, and took her hand away from her.

“No,” she shot back. “I just don’t know how to start breaking this dumb routine. Yet.”

Heather fell quiet, and her eyes dropped to the floor.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I’m just worried that-”

“I know,” Duke cut her off. “I’ll be okay. Just give it time.”

She pursed her lips and nodded silently, before daring to look back up at her again. When she did, Duke took a moment to gaze into her hazel eyes, and noticed something was a little off. Once it hit her what was different, she fluttered her lashes in surprise. McNamara’s lids were painted in a lime green colour - the colour she had given her weeks ago to wear.

Truth be told, she hadn’t expected her to wear it that often. It wasn’t a surprise to see her wear it at her birthday meal, mainly because it seemed like a friendly gesture and nothing more. A way of celebrating her, perhaps.

So seeing her using her gift at her own accord was… let’s say flattering. It made her smile, at the very least. If only she hadn’t been so focused on throwing her lunch back up earlier - she might have noticed sooner.

“You okay?” McNamara then asked. Duke blinked, realising she had just been staring right at her for the past few moments. She snapped herself out of it as she flicked her black locks out of her face.

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “Just a bit dizzy.”

“We can sit here for a bit, if you want.”

Duke shook her head. “I just need some water, is all.”

Emmy hesitated, before nodding, then leading her out the bathroom after they both picked up their bags. As Duke began to walk down the corridor, her vision would blur ever so slightly, and if she could, she would just fall over and shut her eyes there and then. She just had to constantly remind herself that there was no fucking way the janitor would have cleaned these halls in weeks, so the floor was likely covered in shit that students have stepped in, or the jock’s spit or phlegm. Whatever was on there, it was nothing less than disgusting.

As she stumbled to the side a little, a hand caught her arm, keeping her steady.

“You’re walking a little funny,” Emmy whispered.

“I told you, I’m dizzy,” Duke grumbled, though she didn’t resist the hand keeping hold of her ever so gently. If anything, she leaned into it. In hopes it was helping her not look drunk, of course.

They were close to making it to the cafeteria, when the loud, irritating chatter from who she could already tell were the cheerleaders came up behind them both. Their presence was so easy to identify that she didn’t even need to look behind her to check that it was them.

“Such _bullshit_ on the field today!” one girl griped.

“Right? That new Derek guy is _so_ shit in the goal role,” another said. “He was way better on defense.”

“You guys don’t think our cheering was bad, do you?” a more timid-sounding girl questioned.

“The fuck? No way!” and of course, the all-too familiar voice of Ashley sounded. That suspicion was confirmed when she saw her walk past, her swarm of cheerleaders following behind her like sheep. “The _problem_ came from the guys. They’re one player short, and they’ve been thrown off balance.” She groaned. “And there’s nobody who’s gonna sign up that’s of any fucking use in this school!”

“Or maybe the girls were thrown off balance thanks to their new head cheerleader.”

Duke snapped her gaze towards Emmy, who held a neutral expression as she interrupted the groups conversation with their comment. She then looked back to the cheerleader, mainly Ashley, who had turned towards her.

“Somebody’s jealous,” Ashley jeered. McNamara scoffed to herself.

“You haven’t given me anything to be jealous of,” she retorted. Duke snorted in amusement.

“ _Haven’t_ I,” Ashley snarled, crossing her arms as she stalked over to her. “Well, I’m certainly not jealous of having no role on this team now.” She stared down at her with the most patronizing look, and Duke wanted to slap that smug smile right off her face.

“Wow, it took playing dirty to beat Heather?” she sneered at her. Ashley cocked her head towards her, and the smile faltered. “Fucking pathetic.”

“Look, all I did was tell the school she needed some time off,” she said, hand placed on her chest innocently. “I didn’t expect her to be kicked off for good.”

“You _know_ what you did!” Emmy barked. “That wasn’t all you told them, you bitch.”

Ashley paused for a moment.

“That’s all I told them,” she said, shrugging. “I don’t know what else you could be talking about.”

“Yes you fucking do?” Duke said, trying to not raise her voice too much in case of her dizziness getting any worse.

“Um, no I fucking don’t,” she retorted. “Like, all rivalry with you guys aside, I really don’t.” She looked back at McNamara with a questioning look. “What exactly did you get kicked off for?”

Duke looked at Emmy as well, and she seemed a little stunned.

“I-” she began. “Getting into a fight.”

Ashley blinked at her, looking surprised.

“I didn’t know about that,” she said. “Oh, wait, is _that_ how you got your nose broken?”

“Yes,” McNamara replied. “Are you telling me you _didn’t_ know about that?”

Ashley slowly nodded.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

McNamara’s jaw hung open a little, looking as if she had just discovered some brand new revelation.

“But, sounds badass,” Ashley commented, followed by a snarky, “and sucks it turned out this way.” She then slipped her hand into her cheerleading top, and pulled out a little packet, then tossed it to McNamara, who had no choice but to catch it before it hit her in her face. Duke was a little disheartened to feel her hand leave her arm.

“For you, anyway,” she added, smirking. McNamara gripped the packet and stared back up at her dangerously.

“What is this,” she asked flatly.

“An apology from yours truly,” she lamented with a faux sorrowful tone. “Or a thank you gift. I dunno.” She shrugged, before spinning around and returning to her place on the front of the cheerleading team. “See ya on the bleachers!”

With that, she led the group off towards the cafeteria, some of them looking back at McNamara regretfully, and one smaller one at the back mouthing a, “I miss you!” before scampering off sheepishly. Duke rolled her eyes, before looking back at whatever it was Emmy had been given.

“What is it?” she asked.

“A condom,” she sighed, before shoving it into Duke’s hand. “I don’t need it.”

Duke gave her an odd look. “Me neither?” She shoved it back into her palm. “I’m taking a break from boys!”

“Well, so am I!” Emmy said, handing it back. “For a very long time!”

Duke gave a puzzled look. “Why?”

“They’re gross,” she said dryly.

“Well I agree, but you’re more likely to use it than I am!” She placed it on her chest, holding it there until Emmy reluctantly took it.

“I highly doubt that,” she grunted, before holding her palm open and forcefully placing it there.

Duke arched a brow. “Heather, how many times have you done penetrative sex?” A very personal question, but Emmy was a known over-sharer.

She paused for a moment to think.

“Um… Five?” She guessed. “Six?” She shrugged.

Duke gave a victorious grin. “Zero for me,” she said smugly, before handing it back. Emmy did not take hold of it, however, and instead just stared at her in surprise.

“Zero? Really?”

“I know, shocker,” she said unenthusiastically, before moving it closer to her. “Now take it.”

Emmy didn’t move.

“ _Zero?_ ” she repeated, shocked. Duke sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve only ever had a dick in my mouth.” As she said that sentence, she felt her stomach churn and couldn’t hold back a gag. For a moment, she was filled with fear in feeling as though liquid were going to come up in her throat, and she had to cover her mouth. It was enough to snap McNamara out of her awe-struck state.

“Oh, Heather, are you going to vomit?” she asked, panicked.

Duke swallowed, and soon felt as though it was safe to remove her hand.

“Fine,” she muttered. “I just remembered the taste of cum, is all.”

Emmy’s face twisted in disgust.

“You didn’t need to remind me too,” she groaned. Duke patted her shoulder.

“Sorry.”

A pause, before,

“Well, since you two seem to be disgusted at the idea of a dick,” a voice from behind them suddenly spoke up, and they both whipped their heads around. “I’ll just take that from you.”

For a split second, Duke had feared that some loser or rival had overheard their… very personal conversation. And, granted, a loser _had_ heard them, but it wasn’t one who seemed interested in destroying them.

“I’m sorry?” Duke asked, staring back at JD, who was leaning against the lockers not too far from them.

“Do you want it or not?” He glanced at the condom in Duke’s hand, as did Duke. She paused, before cautiously handing it over to him. He didn’t even smile, just took it and slipped it into his trenchcoat.

“See ya,” he then said, before stalking off without casting them a second glance. Duke could only stare at him in confusion, up until he turned a corner and was out of sight.

“I do not like Veronica’s friends,” Duke muttered.

“I don’t mind the other two,” Emmy said. Duke hissed.

“I don’t like them either, but for different reasons.” She turned back to Heather. “Anyway, water.”

“Water!” Emmy repeated, before they both returned to their journey to the water fountain. The wave of student’s voices hit them hard as they entered the cafeteria, as usual, and it was enough to give Duke a headache as Emmy led her to the fountain, her hand having found her arm again.

“Thank _God_ ,” she sighed with relief as they finally reached the fountain. She grabbed a cup and watched it fill up with the liquid that was bound to be lukewarm, but as if she cared. Water was water.

She immediately took a sip once it was full to the brim, and looked back over to McNamara, who seemed to be lost elsewhere. At closer inspection, she saw that she was in fact, glaring at something. She attempted to follow her gaze, and it landed on the cheerleader’s table. Ah.

“Hey,” she said, nudging her with her elbow. Emmy looked back at her.

“Hmm?”

“You’ll get your role back,” she assured her. Emmy held her gaze for a moment, before letting out an exasperated sigh.

“No,” she muttered. “I won’t.”

Duke frowned.

“No positive thinking, I see," she said, taking another sip. Emmy bit her lip, looked back over to the table, before something sparked in her eyes. They became brighter, wider, like an idea had just hit her.

“Heather…” Duke said, concerned. “What are you thinking-”

“Something dumb,” she replied, a smile creeping onto her face. “Come on,” she then said, making Duke’s heart stop by grabbing her by the wrist to begin dragging her to who-knows-where.

Some drops of her drink spilled over the edge and rolled off of her hand, to her frustration, but something kept her from wiggling out of her grip.

“M-” she tried to catch her attention. “Where are we going?”

They turned a few corners, and didn’t stop until they got to the notice board. No one but them was present.

“What did you come here for?” Duke asked, looking over to Emmy, who seemed to be staring up at the notice board. Curious, she sauntered over to her.

“Hmm…” she hummed as her eyes scanned across the pinned sheets of paper. “Oh, there!”

She pointed towards one that was particularly high up, out of both of their reaches, but still readable. Duke squinted.

“Yeah? Soccer team tryouts,” she said with a shrug, and taking another sip of her water. “What about it?”

Emmy continued to stare up at it, her foot tapping the floor. She then proceeded to open up her bag and slipped her hand inside, rummaging through it. Duke stared at her, intrigued as to what she was searching for. That question was eventually answered when she pulled out a pen, and in seeing it, it suddenly clicked, and Duke widened her eyes.

“Heather-” she stepped closer to her. “What are you doing?”

Emmy turned back to her with a mischievous grin, and Duke was filled with dread.

“ _Heather._ ”

“Yes?”

Duke quickly chugged down what was left of her drink, before crushing the cup and tossing it into a nearby trash can.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking… don’t.”

Emmy frowned. “You don’t even know what I’m doing.”

“It _looks_ like you’re about to sign up for fucking _soccer_ ,” she said, narrowing her gaze at her. Emmy remained silent as she innocently batted her lashes at her.

“Maybe,” she sang, looking back up at the notice. “Or, I would if I could reach it.”

“Heather!” Duke scolded, grabbing the pen out of her hand. Emmy flinched, looking back at her in confusion.

“What?”

“You are _not_ doing that!” she told her. “Why the hell would you want to sign up for soccer, anyway?”

Emmy’s brows knitted. “Seems fun,” she said. Duke arched a brow at her, folding her arms across her chest as she tilted her chin upwards.

“Uh-huh?” she grunted in disbelief. “Methinks you’re trying to find a way to get back onto pep rallies.” She leaned towards her. “This isn’t the way to do it.”

Emmy’s shoulders slumped. “Why not?”

Duke gave a dumbfounded stare.

“Okay, well, let’s start with…” She marched over to the notice board to gesture up to the sheet, pinned on the highest corner. “You cannot even _reach_ this, even if I dared letting you sign it!” She stood on her tiptoes and still failed to even touch the corner of the piece of paper. “You know why, M? It’s because this is aimed for all the tallest and toughest guys in this school!”

Emmy looked doubtful. “Not all of them are muscular.”

Duke sighed. “No, but… they’re _bigger_ than you, is my point.” She was on the verge of shuddering at the idea of little McNamara on a soccer pitch, surrounded by what she might as well call fucking giants. At best, she’d be knocked over constantly. At worst, she’d be trampled.

“You don’t think I could play a sport as simple as soccer?” Emmy asked tilting her head. “I used to play it with my dad all the time.”

“I don’t doubt you could _play_ it,” Duke said. “Just not alongside the jocks of this school?”

“Why not?”

Duke blinked at her. “Heather, you would _die_ if you stepped onto a pitch with them!” She stepped closer to her, and placed her hand on her head. “You are a 5’1 cheerleader. Could you actually think about this rather than risking doing something extremely stupid?”

Emmy frowned at her, took hold of her hand and flung it away from her.

“One, I’m an _ex_ -cheerleader,” she said. “Two, I’m fully aware that what I am doing could end badly.” She folded her arms. “You know what else could have ended badly, Heather?”

A pause, before Duke slowly shook her head.

“Signing up to be a cheerleader,” she said. “And yeah, you could argue that _that_ ended badly, but have you forgotten _why_ it ended badly?” She raised her brows at her. “I punched a guy’s teeth out. And he was, what, a whole foot taller than me?” She shrugged. “I’m just saying, Heather, I’m fully capable of _not_ dying on the field.”

“And I’m saying, you’re a _Heather_ , Heather.”

“So?”

“It’s just…” She grimaced as she tried to find the right words. “Out of character.”

McNamara took a moment to simply stare at her, before holding out her hand.

“Give me the pen.”

Duke shielded it from her with both hands.

“No!”

“Careful where you touch it. I’ve been chewing that pen for ages.”

Duke’s hand then flinched away from the end of the pen that she could now see was rough and coated in teeth marks. On the surface of it was most definitely dried saliva.

“Fucking hell.” She disgruntledly handed it back to her in order to begin searching her own bag for hand sanitiser.

“Thank you!” Emmy then said in a cheery tone, and as soon as her land latched onto a bottle, Duke’s head snapped up at her.

“ _No_ , Heather!” she scolded her as she sauntered around her. “If the soccer team doesn’t kill you, then Heather will!”

Emmy turned to glare at her, scowling.

“Do you _see_ her around?”

Duke sighed. “No.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“She _will_ see you, that’s what!” she argued. “Heather, this isn’t a good ide-”

“You know?” Emmy suddenly swung back around to face her. “I would expect this kinda thing from her. But not from _you_.” She folded her arms and frowned. “Why are you acting so worried?”

Duke paused, twiddling her thumbs.

“I…” She shrugged. “It’s not a Heathers thing to do?”

In hearing that, she saw Emmy deflate, her shoulders slumping and her gaze lowering, and the sight made her heart sink.

“It’s mainly because I don’t want you to get hurt,” she clarified, stepping forward. Emmy looked back up at her, her expression unchanging.

“Heather,” she began firmly. Duke stood still, her mouth clamped shut.

“I know you’re probably worried. Heather would be too, if she were here and not mad at me,” she said with a softer tone. “But I’m fully capable of doing something out of my comfort zone by myself, y’know?”

Duke bit her lip and slowly nodded.

“I know, but-”

“I don’t think you do,” she cut in. “Heather, I get that this is dumb and impulsive. Hell, I might even break a bone again.” She placed both of her hands on her shoulders, and Duke felt her body tense a little. “But what do you say when _Heather_ does something dumb and impulsive?”

Duke blinked at her.

“I tell her it’s dumb and impulsive.”

“Do you try and stop her?”

She thought for a moment, then let her gaze drop to the floor.

“No.”

“Why?”

She chewed on her lip. “Because she tells me that she can handle it.”

“Do you believe her?”

She paused to look back up at Emmy’s firm gaze.

“Usually.”

The light grip on her shoulders then left her.

“Then why not believe _me_ ?” she said. “Because Heather has done things way more stupid, way more _dangerous_ than _this_!” She gestured to the notice board. “And you never stopped her because you can trust her to handle it!”

Duke tried to think up a sharp retort, but nothing came to mind. She just stood there and listened.

“I get it. Heather - and _you_ \- both get scared for me,” she lamented. “Because by all sense of logic, I shouldn’t be a Heather.”

“That’s not what we-”

“I _know_ , but you know I’m right.” She glanced around the hallway, which made Duke do the same, wondering what she was looking for. The corridor was empty, however. No one but them present. “For all the time I’ve been here, or even in middle school, Heather has always told me to stay low,” she murmured. “To just do whatever she does, or whatever you do. And I get why. One slip up, and I could be a laughing stock,” she hissed bitterly. “But this isn’t middle school, and we aren’t freshmen. We’re seniors. _I’m_ a senior. I know how the world works. I’m not _dumb_.” She gazed at her earnestly. “You don’t need to worry about every little thing I do. You don’t need to make me feel like I can’t do anything without a hand guiding me the entire time.” Her gaze grew foggy as she looked away. “I get enough of that at home. I don’t need it here.”

Duke felt her chest tighten.

“We don’t mean to-”

“It doesn’t matter!” she told her. “I get that Westerburg isn’t friendly and that they’d happily rip the autistic girl to shreds, and I know that is probably one of Heather’s greatest fears.”

“It’s one of mine too!” she protested.

Emmy fell silent for a moment, staring back at her with an unreadable expression.

“Okay,” she said. “Well, do you want me to tell you some of _my_ greatest fears?”

Duke shifted nervously.

“Okay?”

Emmy inhaled deeply, then exhaled.

“On top of worrying about your health, I worry that one day, someone will walk into the bathroom and find you purging, when none of us are there to watch the entrance, none of us are there to give you a heads up that we’re not alone in there.” Her eyes grew darker. More serious. “I fear what would happen if someone found out about your bulimia, and what rumours could spread.”

Something began to ache in Duke’s throat as she listened to her.

“For Heather, I get scared that if someone were to find out she was dyslexic, she’d get called half the names my own mother would call me,” she continued, her tone solemn. “I get scared that she’d be called a slut or a whore. I get scared that people will objectify her - _hell_ , people fucking do, what am I talking about?” She looked as if she were biting the inside of her cheek. “But I don’t act as her bodyguard. I don’t act as your nurse. I act like your _friends_.” Her gaze pierced into Duke’s, nailing in every individual word into her brain, every emotion attached to it.

“All I’m asking is that you do the same.”

Duke thickly swallowed, nervously running her hand through her hair.

“You could’ve shortened that to, _stop treating me like I’m dumb_ , and I would’ve gotten less sad.”

Emmy shrugged. “Doesn’t have the same effect I was going for.”

Duke gave a disgruntled huff. “Is that effect supposed to be me feeling bad about not doing something dumb?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s working.”

Emmy let out a sweet giggle, which, after having to listen to _that_ , was a wonderful sound to listen to. So much that Duke couldn’t help but smile too.

“Okay. Okay, _fine_ , fucking go for it, you absolute dumbass.”

“Yay, Heather!” she squealed excitedly, before giving her a brief, tight embrace that made her chest feel as if a warm, comforting fire had been lit. Duke thought it was such an odd, yet nice feeling that she didn’t even notice the pen being held out to her at first. When she did, she looked at it in confusion.

“Um…”

“Take it.”

Duke shot her an odd look as she slipped it out of her grip.

“I thought you were-”

“You’re right about one thing, Heather,” she explained. “It _is_ too high.”

Duke scoffed. “And you’re giving it to me? Heather, I’m _shorter_ than you.”

“Not in heels,” she stated, pointing at her shoes. “But yeah, it’s too short for you too.” She then turned her back towards her. “Which is why I’m lifting you up.”

“Excuse me?”

She glanced backwards over her shoulder with a cheeky grin. “We’ll be tall enough with our heights combined.”

“You want me to put your name on the list,” she stated dryly.

“Please?” she cooed, gazing at her through her lashes. Duke felt herself tense up and her heart speed, a feeling she couldn’t name fueling the blood that seemed to rush to her face.

“I-” she stammered. “Fine.”

“Thank you!” she chipped as Duke placed her hands on her shoulders. She then leaped onto her back, Emmy’s strong arms confidently hooking around her legs, holding her in place with ease. Her heart was beating against her chest, which was pressed against her back. Her arm clung onto her, wrapping around her neck.

“Can you reach it?” she asked as she stepped closer to the notice board. She felt herself sway, and with whether or not she would be dropped being beyond her control, and tightened her grip on Emmy’s yellow blazer.

“Um…” She raised the pen up to the list, and found it was level with it. “Yeah.”

“Great!”

Duke let out a long sigh as she began to write out her name.

“Are you doing this to make me complicit in this?” she asked as her hand continued to scribble down. “And that way, Heather will kill _both_ of us when she finds out about this?”

“Yep!”

Duke finished writing her last name so that she could glare down at her.

“You smartass.”

Emmy glanced up at her mischievously.

“Am I a smartass or a dumbass?” she shot back playfully. “Make up your mind.”

Duke scoffed at her, trying to hold back the urge to smile. By how her lips felt as though they were curling, she could only assume she was failing. It wasn’t _her_ fault that Emmy’s cheerful smile was contagious.

“Are you done?”

She blinked, snapping herself out of whatever trance she was in.

“Huh?”

“Did you write my name?”

“Oh!” Duke nodded. “Yeah.”

She beamed at her warmly, before letting her slide off of her. The feeling of her hands and limbs no longer wrapped around her was… empty. So empty that she couldn’t stop a frown formed from disappointment.

“Thank you!” she said gleefully. Duke just offered a smile.

“No problem, I guess.”

Emmy giggled. “And, hey, I know why you’re worried,” she then said with a softer tone. “If I break my leg out there then you’re definitely allowed to come and drag me off the field.” She patted her on the shoulder. “But I’ll be fine. Because even in the worst case scenario, I’ll get through it just fine.”

Duke gave a nod.

“I’ll just trust you with that.”

She smiled again. “I’m glad to hear it!” she said. “And, well, I think it’s sweet that you’ve been looking out for me lately.”

She paused.

“Huh?”

Emmy shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. You’ve just been around me quite a lot recently!” she replied. “And have just been really sweet in general. It’s nice!”

Duke just stared back at her, dumbfounded.

“Uh-huh?”

It looked as if she were about to speak again, with her mouth opening, but the sharp sound of the bell ringing cut her off.

“Oh,” she grunted. “Well, I gotta get to-” She stopped, and her shoulders slumped. “Ugh. Math with _Heather_.” She rolled her eyes. “Not fun.”

“Yeah…” she replied, dazed. “Oh, uh, yeah. Good luck with that.”

“Thanks!” she chipped, before lending another hug. One that Duke didn’t process well, forgetting to reciprocate it in time. Emmy didn’t seem to notice, instead just seemed too joyful to care. “See you later!”

Duke silently waved at her as she parted from her, and watched her skip off in the direction of the math rooms. Students had already began to swarm around the corridor she stood in the middle of, but she was too stuck on how to react to bother moving out of their way.

 _What does she_ mean _I’ve been acting_ sweet _?_ she eventually thought to herself. Perhaps she’d begin picking the statement apart, had someone not touched her shoulders and snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Are you just going to stand in the middle of the corridor?”

Duke glanced up at Heather Chandler, who was giving her an odd look.

“Uh-”

“You look a little pale,” she commented. “You’re not going to faint, are you?”

“I-” She blinked a few times. “Have I been acting sweet, lately?”

Chandler looked taken aback. “Huh?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Um…” Her eyes darted around her with uncertainty. “No?” Her brow furrowed. “You’ve been acting nice around me, but I mean, that was the point of-”

“Fuck,” she muttered.

“Heather, are you actually okay?”

Duke hardly paid attention to her question. Her mind was too set on yelling to itself,

 _I’ve been acting_ sweet _around Heather?_ _Who the fuck uses the word_ sweet _to describe me? Just how much time have I been_ spending _with Emmy, anyway?_ The rims of her already shortened nails found her teeth. _Why the fuck have I been using that nickname so much?_

“You know, Heather, if you’re going to faint, I will happily take you to the nurse,” she vaguely recalled Chandler saying. “It will only let me avoid sitting next to Heather for an hour.”

“No, no, I’m…” She ran her fingers through her hair and dug her nails into her scalp. “I’m _sweet_ ? What the _fuck_?”

She could see Chandler uncomfortably shifting in her place.

“I’m just… I have math.” She pointed in the same direction Emmy had disappeared to. “See you later?”

“Uh-huh,” is all she could reply with as she sauntered off, occasionally casting a concerned glance back at her. Duke forced herself to move out the way of the students swerving around her, though she could only manage to saunter in the direction of her next class.

 _I’ve only been being sweet to Emmy?_ she wondered. _What has been going on with me?_

* * *

Mac’s hands were curled up as she stalked around her room, feet treading lightly and legs moving unnaturally. She’d been practicing this method of walking. Looking at as many pictures of dinosaurs as she had, she knew exactly how they would have walked. Kind of like the pigeons she’d see flocking around every day, only bigger, more weighted.

She froze, just before turning the corner of her bed, in hearing something rustling on the other side. She pursed her lips to quiet her breathing, listening closely to the creaking of footsteps coming closer.

But something was off. The shuffling was coming closer, but it didn’t sound like someone was coming around the bed. No, it was still _next_ to her, just-

“ _Wawr!_ ”

Mac yelped in surprise when a weight landed on top of her, tackling her to the ground. She managed to roll over, and looked up to see Heather, fingers curled as claws as she looked down at her in victory.

“Haha! Tywanothauruth winth!”

Mac frowned, and shook her head. Chandler looked down at her in confusion.

“ _It’s a Tarbosaurus,_ ” she signed. “ _Close, though_.”

“Oh,” Chandler said, her hands lowering a little. “Why not a T-Wex?”

“ _They don’t live in Asia,_ ” Mac explained. “ _Velociraptors do_.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Chandler said nodding. “You know a lot about dinothaurth.”

Mac smiled up at her, showered in the feeling of being complimented for something she was sure was supposed to be an odd infatuation. She’d never overheard any children talking about dinosaurs, her mother certainly did not understand it - she understood nothing she wanted her to understand, after all - and though her father did at least try to indulge her interests, it was only ever when they were alone. That wasn’t very often.

“You th-ould teach me about dinothaurth!” Chandler then said, rolling off of her and offering a hand. Mac remembered to grab it and was pulled onto her feet.

Chandler followed her as she made her way over to her chest, which she lifted up with one hand and began to rummage through the unorganised rubble, until her hand landed on a hardback cover she was looking for. She pulled it out, letting the lid of the chest fall again, and held up the textbook in front of Chandler with a grin.

“You got a dinothaur book!” she exclaimed. Mac nodded, and skipped over to the soft sheep’s wool rug on the floor, sitting down on it. Chandler was close behind her, though she didn’t sit. Mac glanced up at her, and saw she was gazing elsewhere, in the direction of her bed.

“Hmm,” she hummed. “I juth-t got an idea. Wait there.”

Confused, Mac watched as Chandler scurried over to a nearby stool - one taller than both of them, and struggle to haul it over. After some strained grunts, she managed to place it on the other side of the rug. After that, she darted behind Mac, to the bed. Mac watched her as she placed a pillow over a blanket hanging off the edge of the bed, then pulled the blanket over Mac’s head and over the stool, forming a soft roof. Then, outside, Chandler tossed in some pillows and more blankets, before crawling in herself and arranging them into a vague circle.

“ _What are you doing?_ ” Mac signed to her as soon as she was sitting next to her.

“Pillow fowt!” she said, smiling. “Our own little pla-th-e.”

“ _Pillow fort?_ ” Mac blinked at her. “ _What’s that?_ ”

“What’th a pillow fowt?” Chandler repeated. “Thi-th.” She gestured to the tiny room she had built. “I like making them at home. No one can bother me.”

The description sounded nice, and made Mac smile.

“ _Our fort?_ ”

Chandler nodded, beaming with glee.

“Our fowt!” She shuffled closer until she was hovering over her shoulder. “Now tell me about your favouwite dinothaurth!”

Being asked to do such a thing was still a new concept to her, even though for the past year or so she’d known Chandler, she had been nothing but interested in her life. Or, interested in _her_. And the feeling was reciprocal. She still felt bad about crying in front of the entire class when she didn’t get to share a mat with her during nap time - especially for the person who she almost had shared it with. She couldn’t remember who it was, though she knew she had brown, short hair. Luckily for her, the teachers caved in and let her stay by Heather in every nap time from that point on, or any activity that required a partner, for that matter.

She didn’t really understand why she was so attached to Heather. Then again, there was no one else to grow attached to. No one was able to understand what she was signing, and even if they did, she wasn’t sure if they would bother sitting next to her, watching as she guided them through a textbook. It was doubtful that they would ask how to pronounce “Compsognathus” and what period it was that they lived in.

“ _Jurassic,_ ” she spelled out.

As she guided Chandler through the book, she found herself getting cozy on the soft, light and feathery pillows that had been placed behind her. Soon enough, they were both cuddled up under a blanket, with Mac’s finger guiding Chandler through the descriptions of the dinosaurs.

Just them in their own little world.

 _Knock knock_.

Mac flinched.

“Heather, did you say you wanted to watch Bambi?”

Growing relieved at the sound of her father’s voice, Mac shuffled towards one of the exits to the fort, peeking her head around the bed and towards the door. Her dad stood at the doorway, video tape in one hand and a tray with two mugs in the other.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“It-th a fowt!” Chandler called from inside.

“Oh, a fort,” her dad said, nodding. “Anyway, here’s Bambi.”

He walked over to them, placing the two items on the floor in front of her. Mac pulled both of them inside the fort, leaving the film aside for later, since watching it would mean moving out the fort, or dismantling it.

“What are they doing in there?”

The sharp tone of her mother just outside her room made Mac freeze.

“They made a fort,” her father replied.

A brief pause.

“If they’re going to make a mess, make sure they clean it up before we take Heather home.”

Her dad did not respond, and instead only sighed as he straightened himself up.

“Three more hours until we take you back, okay, Heather?” he said softly.

“Okay!” Chandler replied, her voice as chippy as ever. With that, her dad left, closing the door behind him.

Mac couldn’t help but ponder for a moment on how he didn’t say ‘Red Heather’. That’s what he was _supposed_ to do, and what he _usually_ did. She couldn’t puzzle the pieces as to why he didn’t this time.

“Oh! Mac!” Chandler’s high pitched voice snapped her out of her daze. “What-th thi-th one?” She held up the book and pointed to a large theropod with a huge frill on its spine.

“ _Spinosaurus_ ,” she spelled out.

“Th-pin...oh-”

Mac shook her head, cutting her off of her incorrect pronunciation.

_Um… ‘i’ sound. How do I sign an ‘i’ sound?_

She thought for a moment, eventually realising the combination of letters, “ _i, g, h_ ” made the sound she was looking for. Hopefully Heather also knew that. She spelled those out for her, but only got a blank stare.

_Did she figure it out?_

“I… don’t know what you mean.”

Mac gave a sigh.

“ _Never mind._ ” She shuffled back over towards her, where they resumed reading while wrapped up in a blanket, safe and secure. And in doing so, she couldn’t help but feel disconnected from the rest of the world. In a way that it was just the two of them.

“I wi-th I could th-tay longer,” Chandler admitted. “Maybe I can hide under your bed until they th-top looking for me.”

Mac giggled at the thought. It probably wouldn’t work, but the idea still sounded thrilling.

“ _I’d rather stay with you than mother,_ ” she then signed, and Chandler gasped at the statement’s absurdity. Yes, Mac knew saying such a thing was disrespectful, but they were in their own little world, and consequences didn’t exist.

“Well… I’d wather th-tay with you than go home,” Chandler whispered. Mac smiled at her.

It was weird, being able to say whatever secret they may have, feeling safe when doing so and feeling as though no eyes were on you, no one was going to laugh at you for all the silly things you said and did.

And for Mac, that was a feeling of _freedom_ . It lit a flame within her, bright and lively, knowing that she could move and do whatever she wanted without the fear of children pointing at her, teachers yelling at her or her mother glaring at her. She felt so warm and full of joy and _free_ that she just began to giggle, her finger stopping mid-sentence as she fell backwards onto the soft pillows behind her, her arms stretched into the air as she flapped them about, giggling and smiling widely as she did so.

“What awe you laughing at?” she heard Chandler ask. She opened an eye and gazed at her as she leaned forward a little, staring down at her with her head tilted. Mac tried to think of some way to word the energy rushing through her in the moment, but nothing sounded right in her head.

When she didn’t answer, Heather just let out a snicker. “I weally like you,” she said. “Evewyone el-the ith tho bo-wing in th-chool.” She looked down at her hands as they fidgeted. “And mean.”

Mac frowned at her statement, her hands slowing down and eventually stopping their enthusiastic flapping to push her up back into a sitting position.

She could pick up that she was upset, but how to fix that, she wasn’t entirely sure. She pondered for a moment, fidgeting with the hem of her black dress. Her eyes then flickered back towards Heather, and suddenly gained the urge to place a hand on her. Just as a sign of affection.

Her hand rested on her arm, and Chandler looked up at her, eyes seemingly brightening. Mac offered a smile, linking her arm with hers and tugging her closer to her. Chandler let out a giggle and shuffled towards her, whilst Mac rocked back and forth, feelings in her chest bubbly and effervescent. They both returned to the book, Chandler reading along with her and laughing whenever she messed up a word, or simply couldn’t pronounce it with her lisp. It was a pleasant sight; in school she’d become quiet whenever she messed her reading up - only giving little nods or shaking her head in response, her voice becoming raspy and her stance becoming more tense. But seeing her laugh - and laugh _loudly_ , almost uncontrollably - was enough to make her grin even more.

Heather learned something that evening.

Outside, whether it be school, the stores or even just downstairs of her house, she and Heather were odd. She didn’t know why, but children and adults didn’t like the things they did or said. She’d heard children whisper about them, wondering why they were both so quiet, despite that not being completely true - not in Chandler’s case, anyway.

Inside, together, is where they could hide from all of that. Hide from everyone’s judging glares and unnerving whispers. Just be as loud and as excitable as they wanted!

So long as they were in their little fort together, everything felt alright.

* * *

Veronica inhaled another puff of smoke from her cigarette as she sat on the pillar of a wall. She was watching students weave in and out of each other as they crowded to get the best seat on the bus, to get to their parked cars or to simply leave by foot. She felt thankful that she was able to avoid the bustling of the school today by hitching a ride with JD.

The cigarette between her fingers had just burned out when she felt an odd tightening in her throat. She began to cough, hacking up any phlegm that may have been stuck in her throat. As she did, a vague red shape came into her blurry vision. She managed to gain control of her coughing and wipe the loose tears in her eyes in order to lock eyes with Heather Chandler, who was gazing up at her with amusement sparkling in her blue irises.

“Don’t be choking on the last day of the week, Sawyer,” she quipped, leaning her elbows on the little space there was on the pillar. Veronica let out one final cough into her sleeve and rolled her eyes.

“I guess I’m just thirsty.”

“Thirsty for two things with the same name,” she jeered. The comment was unexpected and caught Veronica off guard, especially with how light hearted it sounded.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” she said.

Heather shrugged. “Fridays are always good,” she replied.

“Any plans?”

“Just going out with Heather later to buy some stuff for her birthday party,” she said casually, chin resting on her hand. Her eyes then flickered up at her through her long lashes. “You could tag along if you’d like.”

Veronica gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Heather, I already have plans.”

Heather’s smile dropped.

“With who?” She narrowed her eyes. “Heather?”

“No, my other friends,” she said. “They exist too, y’know.”

“Ah,” she grunted, voice thick with disappointment. Veronica rolled her eyes again.

“Hey, I’ve spent almost every weekend with you guys. It’s been a while since I’ve had a sleepover with them!” she told her. “First time sleeping with JD, too.”

“ _What!_ ”

Heather’s raised voice and sharp tone made her jolt from fright.

“God!” she exclaimed. “As in, _sleeping alongside him_ , Heather!”

A hand landed on Heather’s chest, and she let out a sigh of relief. Veronica couldn’t help but arch a brow at her.

“So don’t worry. No need to get jealous of anyone else.”

Heather flashed a glare up at her.

“I’m not _jealous_.”

Veronica snorted. “Uh-huh.”

Cutting into their conversation was the sound of a rumbling engine rapidly coming closer. Veronica whipped her head around and saw JD, on cue, skidding to a halt after riding out of the parking lot.

“Your cab is here,” he said, patting the small seat behind him. After stealing a quick glance at Heather purely to look at the disgruntled glare she was shooting him, she held out her hand towards him.

“Helmet first.”

“Yes. _Helmet first_ ,” Heather echoed, her tone coated in more venom.

JD paused for a moment.

“Okay, um-” He grimaced nervously. “A small issue with that-”

“For _fuck’s_ sake, Jason!” Veronica groaned, dragging her hand down the length of her face.

“You fucking prick!” Heather belittled.

JD held up his hands in defense. “I _forgot_!”

“How do you forget something like that?” Veronica shot back.

“My memory has been shit for _years_!”

“ _Then make a reminder!_ ”

“You survived last time,” he said more gingerly. “Maybe you’ll-”

“We’re going to Betty’s house. It takes longer than a few minutes to get there!”

“Okay, you know what-” Heather suddenly cut in, and Veronica felt a hand latch around her arm. Heather yanked her off the wall and dragged her away from JD.

“Heather, where are we going?” Veronica asked, with the low rumbling of JD’s motorcycle following them close behind as he glided across the road slowly.

“ _I’m_ driving you there,” she said, her tone firm.

“But you don’t know the way!” Veronica protested.

“Tell me which way to go, then.”

“ _I_ don’t know the way,” she added. “Betty only moved back here recently. I haven’t visited her new house yet!” Eventually they made it to the familiar intimidating red Porsche. “And even if I did, you’re not exactly quick in deciding which way is left and which way is right.”

Heather shot her an irritated glare.

“Then _he_ can guide me.” She gestured to JD, who had stopped his motorcycle not far from where they stood.

“I mean, sure.” He shrugged, shifting his helmet around to make sure it was firmly latched onto his head.

“Will you remember the way back?” Veronica asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” she huffed, offended.

“Because a few days ago you just _forgot_ to do lunchtime poll.”

Heather’s hand, which was inches away from the door handle, paused.

“Does she have a bad memory too?” JD asked.

“No!” she barked. “I was just busy that day.” She cast a glance back towards JD, before opening the door and climbing into the driver’s seat. “Now get in.”

Veronica looked over to JD and gave a shrug.

“Don’t fuck up, or she’ll eat you.”

“Isn’t eating you enough for her?”

His unexpected comeback caused a wave of laughter to erupt from Veronica, one that was louder than she intended. She covered her mouth to try and quiet herself down, while Heather poked her head out the window, eyes blazing.

“ _Excuse_ me?”

“We should go!” JD announced, disregarding Heather’s gripe with a single rumble of his motorcycle. “Betty and Martha are probably already there.”

Veronica had to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye as soon as her laughter calmed down, before racing around to the other door clambering into the seat next to Heather.

“You in?” Heather asked. As soon as Veronica heard her belt click, she gave a thumbs up. On cue, the car woke up, vibrating as it prepared itself for travel.

“Everyone ready?” JD called from in front of them. Veronica rolled down her own window so his voice was much clearer.

“Very,” she replied.

With that, JD began to drive, with Heather following on close behind.

“He better not lead us into an alleyway,” she mumbled. Veronica groaned.

“He’s not a serial killer!”

Heather opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by the car throwing them both forward as they slowed all of a sudden. “The fuck is he-”

Veronica looked back over to JD, who had slowed his pace along the street that led onto the main road, his eyes seemingly fixed on a scene ahead; Ram and Kurt, Veronica’s most _favourite_ of people, were both hunched over together on a patch of grass, hands clutched on the hair of a poor, skinny, helpless junior. She scowled, disgusted at what was unfortunately not an uncommon sight at Westerburg.

Then, when looking back over to JD, she saw his hand rummaging inside his trenchcoat, bike still moving at a fair pace. Just as they drove right past the three boys, he launched a shoe right at them, the heel hitting Kurt square on the forehead and causing him to stumble backwards. Veronica snorted at the sight, as well as feeling relief in seeing the boy flee from them both, now having no hands holding him back.

And in looking back at Heather, she could see an amused smile threatening to make its way onto her red lips. Veronica shot her a cheeky grin.

“You have to admit, that was funny.”

Heather inhaled and exhaled deeply.

“Why did he have a shoe-”

* * *

“ _Finally_ ,” Heather breathed with relief as they pulled into a cul de sac. Heather looked so out of place in the narrow, dead end road with her bright, dangerous looking Porsche.

“Thank you!” Veronica chirped as she unbuckled herself. “Will you remember your way back?” she asked just before opening the door.

“I’ll be _fine_ ,” she said dismissively.

“If you say so,” Veronica said, chuckling. She then turned, about to open the door up, when a thought occurred to her.

 _I won’t see her for a few days_ . She glanced back over to her. _Hmm._

“See you soon!” she chipped cheerfully, before leaning over and planting a swift, ever so brief peck on her freckled cheek. She had to remind herself to not stop and giggle when she heard a high pitched squeak from the unsuspectful Heather. She simply bit it back and darted out of the car, trying to ignore the blood rushing to her face.

 _Look, I’m allowed to tease her too,_ she thought to herself as she met JD at the gate of Betty’s house. _Especially since it’s not only fun, it’s…_ She dared to peer over her shoulder, and saw Heather biting her lip, shifting in her seat and looking down. She could have sworn there was the slightest of pink tints on her cheeks.

_It’s nice._

Her eyes were still glued on Heather as she continued to walk up the path, which was much shorter than she thought it was. When she felt her foot hook on the unexpected step, she was already falling forward. She yelped as she hit the door in front of her, quickly scrambling up from her knees. The only sound she really registered was the sound of JD cackling.

“Thanks for the help,” she muttered as she stood up, brushing stray dirt off of her clothes. JD didn’t reply, just continued laughing. To add onto the humiliation, she also heard a _honk!_ from behind her. She whipped her head around and saw Heather leaning out of the window with a smirk on her face.

“You’re a dumbass!” she called, before retreating back into her car and rolling up the window. Veronica just scowled at her, holding up a middle finger as the car quickly started up.

“I blame you,” she shot back as Heather’s car skidded out of the tiny street, though her voice was too quiet to be heard.

“ _Because you’re so smokin’ hot I couldn’t take my eyes off you!_ ” she heard JD add on with a high-pitched voice made to match hers. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Nice voice cracks,” she retorted. JD frowned.

“Can a guy not go through puberty in peace?” he said, rubbing his throat. Veronica arched a brow.

“Aren’t you seventeen?”

JD kept a straight face as he a nodded.

Before Veronica could think to ask any more questions, the door in front of them clicked open.

“That was an odd knock,” was the first thing Betty said. Veronica sighed.

“That was Veronica tripping over the step,” JD said.

Betty let out an amused snort, and she could only roll her eyes.

“She was too busy gushing over Heather to look where she was going.”

“I was _not_ -” Veronica attempted to protest.

“Why was Heather Chandler at my fucking house?” Betty asked, eyeing Veronica suspiciously. Veronica just pointed at JD.

“It’s his fault! He forgot to bring me a helmet.”

Betty raised her brow with intrigue. “So Heather stepped in and brought you here.” She clasped her hands together, right in front of her heart. “How _sweet_.”

Veronica felt her face warm up a little, and she pinched the bridge of her nose in an attempt to hide any blush that may be there.

“Anyway, come in, it’s freezing.”

“Thank you,” Veronica grumbled as she stepped into the house and slipped her shoes off quickly. “Is Martha here, by the way?”

“Yes!” Betty chipped, pointing towards an open door that she could only assume was her living room. She grinned and darted into it, finding a nice lay out of thick blankets and pillows scattered along the couch, chairs and floor, bowls of different snacks sitting on the rug and the TV turned on, ready. After admiring the comfy-looking lay out before her, her attention was quickly drawn to Martha, who was happily tucked under a load of blankets, her stuffed unicorn tucked under her arm.

“Martha!” she cheered gleefully. Martha looked up and beamed.

“Veronica!”

“Martha!” she squealed again, before leaping onto the space on the couch next to her, almost launching herself onto Martha in the process.

“JD,” a monotone voice also said, just as JD silently glided across the room.

“Speaking of JD,” Betty then called from the doorway. “How many hours has it been?” she pointed towards him, and JD groaned.

“Uhh… what time is it?”

Veronica glanced at her swatch.

“Almost half four,” she said. “Why?”

“ _Take it off, JD,_ ” Betty then said firmly.

“But-”

“It’s been eight hours!”

Veronica, confused, turned back to JD, who pouted and shrank in his seat.

“Okay, fine, be right back.”

Still puzzled, she watched JD walk back across the room and out the door, then heard footsteps up the stairs, with Betty not taking her eyes off of him until he was out of her sight. She then let out a big sigh and made her way over to the couch, flopping down next to Martha.

“He is going to break his fucking ribs if he isn’t careful,” she grumbled. Martha gave a sympathetic pat on her shoulder.

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

Betty gave her a warm smile, and just before Veronica opened her mouth to ask questions, she heard more footsteps.

“You got everything Betty?” a familiar face who Veronica recognised, yet had not seen for a long time, peeked around the doorframe. Tanned skin, hair dyed cyan and tattoos and piercings decorating many features, it was easy to recognise him.

“We’re good, dad,” she replied. He gave a smile, before his eyes fell onto Veronica. His face changed from calm to one of amazement.

“Betty!” he gasped. “Is this Veronica?”

Betty glanced over in her direction, and snorted with amusement.

“Yeah, that’s her.”

Veronica sheepishly smiled and gave a small wave, unsure how to deal with the nostalgic feelings in her chest as he made her way over to her.

“Hello, it’s me.”

“Veronica!” he said with amazement as he walked around the back of the couch to stand next to the arm she was leaning against. “You’ve grown so much!”

“Tends to happen over the course of four years, dad,” Betty said.

“Not just her, I mean, her hair!” he gestured to her brown, shoulder-length locks. “Last time I saw you the only long hair you had was your bangs!”

Immediately catching onto what he was referring to, Veronica sank into her shoulders, cringing silently at the vision of her, wearing an all-black outfit, thick eyeliner and an altogether failure at looking threatening in any way.

“You mean, back when she looked like how JD looks now?” Betty asked. The question made Veronica cover her mouth to hold back the laughter that left her tongue.

“I-” her dad began. “Yeah…” He looked back down at Veronica. “But! What we should absolutely do-” He then ran out of the room. “Be right back!”

The three of them looked towards the door, then back at each other with confusion. About a minute later, and her dad returned, hurrying into the room with an old, rusty wooden plank that Veronica also recognised.

“Sorry, but it’s tradition,” he said as he leaned it against the wall - the plank about as tall as the door. He gestured towards it, and Veronica gave a sigh as she threw the blanket off of her and scurried over to the plank. When she got there, Mr. Finn (though, let’s face it - she just called him Ted) had widened his eyes, looking surprised.

“Oh wow. You _have_ grown,” he said. Veronica chuckled.

“Yeah, I’m 5’9.”

“Well, let’s test that out.” He held the plank still, and Veronica rested her back against it, standing as still and straight as she could. He glanced over to Ted, whose eyes were flickering up and down the side of the blank, which Veronica was aware had a hand-made measurement on the side.

“You sure?” he asked. “Says here you’re 5’10.”

Veronica blinked at him.

“Wait, really?"

Ted marked her new height on the board with a blue marker, and as soon as he did, Veronica swung around and saw that the line surpassed the 5’9 mark, now at 5’10.

“ _I’m 5’10!_ ” she squealed, hopping backwards. Her eyes then trailed down the plank, seeing all her previous heights down the line. The last one was at 5’5, and the mostest faded one was… well, very short. She was pretty sure that was about fourteen years old now.

“Oh, we’re measuring heights now.” JD suddenly being present and speaking made Veronica jump in surprise, seeing he was now standing just in front of the door now.

“Heya, JD!” he said cheerfully.

“Hi, Ted. I got a stubble now.”

Ted gasped.

“Oh, hell yeah, lad!” He skipped over to JD and gave him a pat on the back. “You planning on growing a beard?”

“I’m pretty okay with a stubble for now,” JD said, brushing a finger over his jawline.

“Good choice.” He nudged him with an elbow lightly before making his way to the exit. “Me and your mother will be going out very soon, Betty! You’ll have the whole house to yourself.”

“Coolio,” she replied, giving him a thumbs up. He gave a thumbs up back, before stepping back out of the room. “Honey, are you nearly ready?” he called.

“In a moment!” the voice of who Veronica could recognise as Betty’s mother replied from somewhere upstairs.

“How is Polly these days?” Veronica asked, turning to Betty.

“She’s doing good,” Betty replied, just as footsteps sounded from the stairs. Right after, the head of a shorter woman wearing a sparkling blue dress poked into the room.

“Veronica!” she greeted with a smile. “It’s been far too long!”

“Agreed,” she replied, giving her a smile.

“Oh wow, she’s grown, hasn’t she, Teddy?” she commented, walking over to her and tilting her head up slightly.

“I know! She’s so tall.”

Admiration glimmered in the shorter woman’s eyes. “Did she come out yet, Betty?”

Veronica stumbled backwards, an odd mixture of a nervous laugh and a yelp escaping her mouth.

“Mom!” Betty scolded. Martha covered her mouth.

“What?” Polly asked, shrugging.

“Well one, you don’t ask someone that,” Betty replied, “and two, yes, she did.”

Veronica furrowed her brow at her.

“It’s always been kind of obvious, Ron,” Betty replied, her voice a little hushed, and yet still audible to everyone in the room.

“She’s right,” Polly agreed. “But that was probably rude of me. I apologise.”

Veronica rolled her eyes and gave a chuckle.

“It’s fine. You’re like my second, albeit long lost family after all.”

“Oh, Veronica!” Polly smiled at her sweetly, her hand on her chest. “You’re too kind.”

“Her type isn’t,” Betty commented as she stuffed her hand in a bowl of chips. Veronica narrowed her eyes at her.

“Oh! Is she into bad boys?” Ted called from outside the room.

Veronica bit her lip, shrinking a little. He wasn’t exactly wrong - she did like guys who had an edge to them. The thrill had always appealed to her.

“If so, I am flattered,” JD said from his chair. Veronica snorted at his statement, pushing down the fact that, yes, she’d thought he was attractive when they had first met. Granted, that meant she _still_ thought that, only now she merely viewed him as a ‘best bud’ rather than boyfriend material.

“I was referring to her taste in bitchy girls, but yeah, I assume she still likes guys who wear a shitload of eyeliner,” Betty said.

“Ah, best of both worlds,” he said, chuckling. “Anyway, darling, are you ready?”

“Yes, yes, coming now,” she replied, scurrying out the room. “Well, me and your father are going out for dinner,” she said, glancing over to Betty. “The house is all to yourselves, but could you please keep mess in here?”

“Will do,” Betty replied. “Have a nice time!”

“You too, sweetie!” she called, before the front door could be heard clicking open.

“Bye bye, Boo Boo!”

“What the fuck,” Polly muttered.

“What?” Ted replied.

“What kind of nickname is that?”

“A _great_ one.”

Betty grimaced to herself. “I agree with mom on this one!” she called after them both.

“Ha!” Polly cackled, followed by the door shutting. Veronica turned back to Betty, smiling.

“Your parents are still great,” she said.

“We love family reunions,” Betty replied. “Now get back over here, we’re putting our first movie on.”

“Let me guess,” Veronica asked as she scampered back over to her spot on the couch. “The Princess Bride?”

“Nope,” she said.

“That’s for later!” Martha replied gleefully.

“We’re starting with Rocky Horror,” JD answered. “My own suggestion.”

“Oh?” Veronica flopped back into her seat on the couch. “Never seen that.”

“Me neither!” Martha said.

“You’re both in for a ride,” JD told them as he rushed over to the TV, squatted down and opened up a video box.

“Just a head’s up, it’s actually really offensive towards LGBT people,” Betty stated. “But hey, so long as I know that, I don’t really care. I just like the songs.”

Veronica gave her a curious look. “Why is it offensive?”

* * *

“Oh. _That’s_ why.”

“Yeah.”

Veronica squinted at the screen.

“Then why do I _like_ it?” she questioned as she watched Rocky and Janet borderline fucking on screen.

“Maybe we just have low standards,” JD suggested, shifting his shoulders to the tune of _“t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-touch me!”_

“Yeah…” the rest of the group sighed in unison.

“But why do I have the urge to dress up like Frank?” Veronica questioned, running her fingers through her hair. Betty let out a chortle.

“I’m _sorry_?”

“No, no, not _exactly_ like him!” she exclaimed. “Just… well... “ she desperately tried to search for the right words. “I mean, I like how he looks!” she gestured to the screen. “I like the androgynous look he has.”

“ _Ah_ ,” Betty said, nodding.

“What?” Veronica questioned. Betty just pursed her lips, keeping them shut. “ _What?_ ” she repeated.

“Are they lesbians?” Martha suddenly asked, interrupting the one-sided conversation. Veronica looked back over to the screen, and watched as Magenta and Columbia would reenact the events happening between Janet and Rocky.

“Absolutely,” Betty replied.

“Technically they’re both bi,” JD corrected.

“True,” Betty said with a shrug.

As the group continued to quip, Veronica couldn’t help but stare at the movie as it played. It was such an oddly fascinating watch - one she felt like she shouldn’t enjoy, but did regardless.

And each time Frank came back onto the screen, she had so many questions running through her head. Mainly, _why was she so fascinated with his look?_

She leaned over Martha to scoop a handful of popcorn from the bowl sitting on her lap, and shoved it in her mouth.

 _I’m sure it’s nothing_.

* * *

The clock read half past eleven, and now that Veronica could tear her gaze from the screen after watching three movies in a row, she realised just how dark it had become. Little light lit up the room, only dim street lights outside and some lamps that remained switched on.

Next to her, Martha gave a yawn and rubbed her eyes, clearly trying to stay awake. Looks like she was determined to have a late night.

“Do you have any sugar in your coffee, Veronica?” she heard JD call from the kitchen.

“No,” she replied.

“What the fuck, it’s black.”

“Yeah.”

“I put three tea spoons of coffee in this mug, Veronica!”

“Yeah.”

Betty leaned forward to squint in her direction. “Hey, Ronnie, how well have you been sleeping lately?”

Veronica pursed her lips, shrinking behind the blanket.

“Uhh… no.”

“That’s not-” she shook her head. “Okay, well, what now gays and girls?” She cracked her knuckles, which elicited a small gasp from Martha. “Oh, sorry Martha.”

“It’s okay!” she said with a gleeful smile. “And… hmm…” She pondered for a moment. “I was thinking, all of you have such exciting lives! Perhaps we could just go round the circle and ask about… I don’t know, the weirdest thing that’s happened at a party or something!”

Betty gave Martha a dazed smile; dazed? Veronica didn’t associate the word with Betty.

“I’m sure your life is exciting too,” she said with a nudge of her elbow. Martha gave a sheepish giggle.

“I’m more of a stay at home, do some knitting and bake some brownies type of gal,” she said.

“What we talking about?” JD suddenly cut in as he stepped into the room, in one hand his own mug, the other Veronica’s. The bitter smell hit her soon after she spotted the steaming cup, making her body jitter in anticipation. She stretched her arms forward, making eager grabby-hand gestures.

“Gimme! Gimme!” she chanted.

“Okay, hold on, it’s hot,” JD chided as he carefully made his way towards her, leaning over the mess of bowls and pillows between them. Veronica snatched it out of his hands and pressed the rim against her lips, the steam fogging up her vision.

“He said it’s hot, Veronica!” Martha warned her, though by the time she finished her sentence, hot coffee was singeing her tongue.

“I’m fine,” Veronica said as she gulped it down. “What were you saying before Martha?”

“Right! I say we go around and share the most insane stories about ourselves!”

“Ones I haven’t told you already?” she asked.

“I have plenty,” JD said as he dropped onto his chair. “What you wanna know about?”

“Betty’s told me you’ve been in a lot of fights in your high schools,” she said. “What’s the worst one you’ve ever been in? Have you ever lost?”

“Of course I’ve lost,” JD replied, sipping his own coffee. “I think the worst one was back in Texas. I was fourteen years old, and hanging out with some kids from my school. They pushed me in a chicken coop, so I tackled them and began fighting in what we all realised was cow shit.” He shrugged. “But whatever. They deserved it.”

“I imagine you took a very long shower,” Martha said.

“I did. The shower also had a shower afterwards.” He glanced at Betty. “Did you ever tell her about that one guy who you got into a fight with back in Atkinson’s?”

Veronica watched Betty’s green eyes light up. “I haven’t,” she said, grinning. Martha glanced back at her with intrigue.

“You haven’t told me either,” Veronica added. Though, Betty didn’t seem to acknowledge her comment - just continued to gaze at Martha.

“Basically, this guy came up to us, asked JD for a ‘fag’,” she began. “So he went to grab a cigarette, and then he was like, ‘no, I was talking about _you’_ ,” her voice lowered into a raspy, grumbled voice, so unexpected that it caught Veronica off guard. “Usually JD would be the one to throw the first punch, but I just got really pissed and, well, _sorted it_.”

“How?” Martha questioned. “Did you maybe… kick him in the, um-” she made an odd gesture as the volume of her voice dropped, “-area?”

“Almost,” Betty said, chuckling. “I pushed him over and stepped on his dick.”

Both Veronica and Martha let out a sudden snort of laughter.

“That’s great,” Veronica said through a giggle.

“Thanks, I try.”

Veronica continued to snicker at the image of Betty, heavy boots at her foot, slamming her heels into some dickhead’s crotch, up until Martha spoke again.

“What about you, Veronica?”

Veronica glanced up at her.

“Hmm?”

“She’s right, you’re bound to have come across some creeps ever since joining the Traffic Light Triad.”

“I-” Veronica’s mind was quick to flash back to every party she had ever been dragged along to. Ever. “Yeah…”

“Have you beaten any of them up?” JD asked. Veronica took a quick sip of her coffee before responding.

“Not necessarily,” she said. “I did throw a vodka bottle at a guy once.”

“Ouch,” Betty said with a faux wince. “What’d he do?”

Veronica cringed at the memory, her free hand laying on the blanket curling its fingers into the fabric.

“He tried to drug Heather,” she murmured.

Martha let out a shocked gasp, covering her mouth and widening her eyes.

“Which one? Was she okay?”

Veronica frantically nodded. “Yes, she was fine!” she assured her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It was Heather Chandler. She wasn’t too shaken by it, though she did leave the party early, which is… _odd_ for her.” She chewed on her lip, the thought of that night making her stomach church with discomfort.

“I hope you broke his face,” JD said.

“Yeah, same here,” Betty added. “You get any weird looks for that?”

Veronica shrugged. “Eh, people were confused until I showed everyone the drugs. I did avoid the big guys of the school though.”

“Why?” Martha tilted her head.

“Because I wouldn’t be surprised if they were in full support of what that guy tried to do. Or even had done the same thing.” She tapped her nails against her mug. “Hell, they may have had something to do with it. I don’t know. It’s just that normalised.”

“That’s horrible,” she murmured, before a startled expression flashed in her dark brown eyes. “You haven’t had anything like that happen to _you_ , have you?”

Veronica opened her mouth, ready to reassure her that, no, she had never been traumatised by such experiences.

Only, there was no reassurance that she could find that wasn’t a lie. No, she hadn’t been traumatised, and she was grateful. But… she shouldn’t be grateful for such a bare minimum, if you could even call it that.

“I wish I could say no,” she grunted, taking another gulp of her coffee. “But uhh… guys are dicks. No offence, JD.”

“I’d only be offended if you grouped me in with them,” JD said.

“I don’t,” she replied. JD wiped some imaginary relieved sweat drops off of his forehead.

“Oh, Veronica!” Martha then exclaimed, her voice thick with sympathy as she leaned forward to give her a hug. Veronica awkwardly reciprocated with her one arm, whilst carefully holding up the other as to not spill steaming liquid onto Martha’s favourite pink sweater. “You never got hurt, did you?” she then asked, parting a little to lock eyes with her.

Veronica furrowed her brow, accompanied with a regrettable grimace.

“I… hit my head once,” she admitted. “Should have expected no less when I go on a double date with Kurt and Ra-”

The realisation hit her half a second too late, but in a vain attempt to save her skin, she slammed her palm over her mouth, eyes wide as she stared back at Martha, heart tightening in seeing the girl’s expression morph into one that was… for the most part, unreadable. Though she could pick up on the betrayal that either, Martha was trying to hide for her sake, or Veronica was simply imagining that it was there out of guilt.

Behind her, Betty peered over her shoulder with a warning glare, followed by her mouthing.

“ _Veronica!”_

Clearly imagining her saying her name in her ‘you done fucked up now’ voice, she shrank back into the blanket and clenched her teeth; a way of saying sorry without suspiciously mouthing ‘sorry’ in front of Martha.

“I-” she quickly tried to gather herself as she looked back at Martha, who still seemed to be processing what she had just said, as shown by her eyes that flickered aimlessly back and forth as her cogs turned in her head. “I wasn’t on a date with Ram! That was Heather.”

Martha bit the inside of her cheek.

“Which one?”

Veronica held back a wince.

“...Duke?”

Betty face palmed behind her as soon as that name left her mouth.

“I’m sorry, Martha,” Veronica sighed. “I didn’t want to go on the date. Honestly. I regret it.” She nervously twirled a lock of brown hair around her finger. “I think she does too.”

Martha’s hands left Veronica, though to her relief, she didn’t shift away.

“What happened? How did you get hurt?”

The concern in her voice was clear, and, as if it were an instinct, Veronica was quick to try and calm her down.

“Oh, I was fine in the end, I just-” she paused to try and think of how to word it, “I um, was basically playing tug of war against Kurt whilst trying to get Heather away from him, and then he let go and I stumbled backwards and hit my head.” She gave a dismissive shrug. “I was fine, it just hurt.” The corner of her mouth then picked up a little. “She did throw a log at them though. That was fun.”

“Wait, did I miss something?” Martha then cut in. “Why were you playing tug of war?”

Veronica frowned at poor, innocent Martha who was unable to catch on.

“Do you want me to sugarcoat or be blunt and explicit?”

Martha almost looked frightened at the ominousity of the statement,

“...Explicit?”

“They wanted to fuck us. Our ‘date’ was just an excuse for them to drag us out into the woods in hopes they’d get a foursome our of us. We weren’t having it, they wouldn’t accept ‘no’ for an answer so we had to escape. They didn’t make that last part very easy, but we managed, only with a bruised back of the head for me.”

Martha’s shoulders slumped and she looked down at her hands. Any joy or interest that may have been left over evaporated, and the sight made Veronica tighten her grip on her mug and glance up at Betty, knowing she’d probably get a glare, but perhaps she’d get some idea about what to do.

While she wasn’t met with a sharp stare, she did see Betty’s green eyes darken as she gazed at her friend.

“I’ll be back in a second,” Martha suddenly spoke up, her voice quiet and meek. “I just need the bathroom.”

“Oh… okay,” Veronica replied, watching her helplessly as she stood up and left the room.

As soon as she was gone and the sounds of footsteps against the stairs could be heard, both JD and Betty both turned their heads towards her.

“I didn’t mean to let that slip,” she quickly said, their judging stares already making her break into a sweat. “I just-”

“I think you should talk to her,” Betty interrupted. “You _know_ she’s had a crush on Ram for years!”

“Of course I know that!” she snapped, leaning over to place her coffee on the floor. “But in my defense, he’s a dick, and I don’t understand why she still likes him.” She threw the blanket off of her. “Like I said, had Heather and I have not been able to get away from them, we would have been fucked. Literally.”

Betty’s mouth twitched. “I agree, and I’m glad that didn’t happen.” She narrowed her eyes. “But why’d you go on a date with them in the first place?”

“I didn’t want to! It was a favour for Heather!”

“Why do a favour for _her_?”

Her tone didn’t even try to hide the underlying bitterness. Veronica sighed.

“To be nice, I guess?” she shrugged, before standing up, joints clicking after being tucked in a comfortable blanket nest for so long. “She’s kind of my friend now, so that’ll happen.” With that, she made her way towards the door. “I’ll be back.”

She quickened her pace once she was out of the room, hurrying up the stairs, and only slowing down once she reached the top, and her breathing quickened. She let out a cough, before searching for the bathroom. The hallway had a few doors, all looking the same, and whilst she had used the bathroom this evening already, she’d forgotten which door belonged to it. It was either that one, right at the end of the corridor, or it was the one right next to it. Hmm.

She was ready to press her ear up against the door closest to her, only for it to swing forward, to her surprise. She managed to maintain her balance rather than fall over with it, and expected to have found some other room. But no, that was definitely the bathroom. Meaning the _other_ room was where the sink was.

“Martha?” she called, knocking on the other door, which drifted forward too. She peeked in, and no one was to be found. “Uhh… Martha?”

“What?”

She gave a sigh of relief in hearing her friend’s voice, only it came from another room behind her. Turning around, Veronica gave a lost look at the numerous doors that were her options.

“Where are you?”

“In here.”

That sounded like the farthest door from her. Again, her pace quickened as she made her way back down the corridor, and knocked on the door she assumed was the correct one.

“Come in.”

Veronica opened up, and was met with what she could only conclude was Betty’s room. From the dark purple walls, black ceiling, navy carpet and brighter purple accents colouring her blankets, curtains and other starry patterns along her wall and wardrobe, to the black and purple bass leaning against a stereo and many posters plastered along her wall, including Rocky Horror (of course), what she recognised as the antifascist logo, and finally one hanging just above the head of her bed reading in bright, bold and all-caps, _DO CRIME. PUNCH NAZIS. EAT THE RICH._

The last thing she noticed was the rainbow flag (very loosely) hung up over her wardrobe - not by any pins. Just hanging over the edge on the top. Lurking beneath it was another flag she didn’t recognise - it was blue, pink and a white in the middle. She was pretty sure, anyway, with most of it being covered.

After gazing around Betty’s room admiring how much it had changed, but somehow stayed the same over the years, she turned towards Martha, who was sitting on the bed, giving her a sheepish smile.

“Hey,” she said, voice quiet.

“Hey,” Veronica replied, shifting over towards her, unsure if she should sit down. “Um… are you okay?”

Martha looked at the floor.

“Yeah.”

Veronica frowned.

“Martha Dunnstock, I have known you for almost two decades, and I can tell when you’re upset.”

Martha scratched the back of her neck, before playing with one of her dreads between her fingers.

“I, um…” She stammered, seemingly at a loss for words. Veronica sighed.

“I didn’t want to go on that date,” she told her. “And I don’t think Heather wanted to either.”

Martha looked up at her, before shifting over, leaving room for Veronica to sit. She accepted the offer, and then continued.

“I only did it because Heather needed someone else to go. And Heather only did it because…” She bit her lip. “I don’t know. Ram and Kurt are popular, and so is she. In theory they’d be a perfect match, I imagine is what she thought.” She leaned back on the bed. “Who knows. Either way, can confirm she likes neither of them like that.” She let out an amused huff. “Pretty sure it’s the opposite, with how many times she’s either threatened to kick them in the balls, or actually do it.”

“I’d be worried if either of you did,” Martha said. “Like them that way, I mean.”

Veronica gave her a sympathetic look. “Martha, it’s fine. I’d never try to _steal_ -” she made quotations with her fingers, “-your crush.”

“Huh?” Martha’s spine straightened, and her expression became confused. “Veronica, I-” she twiddled her thumbs. “Well, I can’t say I’m _completely_ over it by any means, but-”

“Wait _what_ -” Veronica murmured, widening her eyes and a feeling swirling around in her chest made of anticipation.

“But I… I can’t keep liking him in good spirit whilst knowing he did that to you,” she finished, sounding defeated and empty. “And Heather.”

Veronica’s jaw hung open.

“You- Martha,” she grabbed her by the shoulders, and Martha suddenly became alert, “are you saying that you… _don’t like Ram?_ ”

Martha pursed her lips. “I mean…” She grimaced. “I still do, but I can’t exactly drop a years-long crush within a few minutes.” Veronica let go of her shoulders. “But… yeah. I guess I am, because I doubt I’ll still be able to see him as the sweet boy he was in kindergarten now that I know he…” She gazed up at Veronica, her eyes filled with sorrow, before Veronica found herself in a tight, crushing embrace. “I’m so sorry he did that to you!”

“It’s- it’s fine?” Veronica replied, voice a little hoarse as her chest clenched under the strong hug. “You didn’t exactly have a hand in it.”

“I know, I just-” Martha released her, and she could breathe, though she still held onto her arms. “I came up here because I just felt sick. That I’d like someone who would…” She bit her lip, refraining from finishing her sentence. Veronica sighed and gave her a reassuring smile.

“I’m okay,” she said. “Besides, I should have expected something like that would have happened by going on a date with Kurt and Ram.” Her eyes playfully rolled, up until she felt Martha dig her nails into the skin on her arms. She blinked in surprise (Martha’s hidden strength had never not surprised her) and stared back at the serious glare she was being given.

“You should _never_ feel like you _should have expected it_ ,” she told her with a stern tone, one that was almost unnerving coming from someone who was usually so sweet and passive. “That’s something that should _not_ be _expected_ in _any way_.” She tugged her a little closer. “Because living in a society where someone doesn’t get in trouble for not respecting other people and their boundaries because that’s just how they act? That’s…”

She gulped.

“That’s fucked up.”

And just like that, Veronica’s brain froze, as did her body. With a dumbfounded look, she stared back at Martha, jaw still hanging open, stuck in place. Her thoughts were suddenly on hold, with the sound of Martha - Martha Dunnstock - dropping the fucking _f-bomb_ just replaying in her head over and over again.

“Um… Veronica?” Martha called, waving her hand inches away from her face. Though a light breeze brushed over her cheeks, it wasn’t enough to break Veronica out of her trance.

“Oh no, I broke her,” Martha mused. “JD’s good at engineering, maybe he can fix you.” She took hold of her wrist and stood up, pulling Veronica up with her. “Come on, let’s go see their faces when we tell them I said a bad word,” she said, faintly laughing as they walked out the room. “And that I’m getting over my crush of the century.”

“ _Mhmm_ ,” is all Veronica could respond with as she was led downstairs. It was though her thoughts had completely malfunctioned, as though she was soon standing in the same room as them as Betty and JD were given a recap, she did not process a single word said, other than the two notable reactions.

“ _YOU WHAT.”_

“Congratulations.”

* * *

“When’th the wocket-?”

Chandler paused for a moment, her jaw shifting about.

“W… w…” she licked her lips, “w… _rocket_ … gonna take off?”

The word left her tongue, and she was rewarded with a bright smile from Mac, who gave her an applause. Chandler felt warm as she was showered with praise, and let out a giggle.

While it was hard to focus on what she was actually saying, Heather had found her pronunciation of hard r’s to be getting easier with each day she practiced. Sure, it required effort and adjusting her tongue, lips and teeth, but she was getting by pretty okay, now that Mrs Dunnstock was able to offer her extra sessions to go with her reading practice.

“ _That was really good!_ ” Mac signed excitedly.

“Heather’s right,” Mrs Dunnstock added. “You’ve shown great signs of improvement, Heather.” 

Chandler looked over towards the table where she sat, watching over them both as they played with a toy rocket, one that had made Mac _jitter_ with excitement when Chandler had pulled it out of the toy box. As much as she still loved dinosaurs, she had noticed her picking up a lot of non-fiction books with pictures of space and planets on the front cover as of late.

“Thank you!” she replied proudly, before turning her attention back to the rocket she held in her hands. “Th-ould we count down?” she asked Mac, who nodded. Chandler gripped the rocket tightly. “W- _Rocket_ taking off,” she announced. “In three… two… one-”

_Ring ring._

The sound of the bell alerting them of recess beginning made the rocket droop in Chandler’s hands, and Mac’s shoulders slump along with it in disappointment.

“We can take off next time…” Chandler said, though there was still a gripping feeling of impatience that made her pout, knowing that they wouldn’t be able to finish their game for a while, since their classes for the rest of the day was in a different room.

“Hmm…” Mrs Dunnstock then hummed. “How about I let you take it outside?”

Both Chandler and Mac turned their heads towards her with a gasp.

“If anyone asks, tell them I let you,” she said with a smile. “So you can finish your game.”

Chandler let out a squeal. “Yay!” She leaped onto her feet and grabbed Mac’s arm to pull her up with her. “Come on, let’th go!”

Once Mac had scrambled up, they both darted out the room, Chandler yelling a quick ‘thank you!’ to Mrs Dunnstock on the way out. Soon enough they were caught up with the many children flocking towards the exit, yelling excitedly as they swarmed around the door. Chandler made sure to hold Mac away from the crowd, as well as gripping the rocket tightly. She dreaded what would happen if some rowdy boy pushed her and knocked it out of her hand, followed by it being trampled. Or if someone stole it. She definitely didn’t put it past anyone in the crowd to _not_ do that.

Soon enough, to her relief, the doors opened and the children spilled onto the playground with excited cheering ringing in the air. Both she and Mac stayed put, waiting until there were only a few children left, lingering at the back. She stepped forward, ready to go through the door, when she brushed shoulders with a much shorter boy, black hair tied in a short ponytail.

“죄송합니다,” he said, stepping backwards towards his friendship group consisting of three other people - one who stood out to her as looking a _lot_ like Mrs Dunnstock.

“He says sorry,” the girl said, gesturing towards the door. “You go first.”

“Thank-th,” she replied, scurrying past them quickly. Though they seemed nice, she didn’t want to stick around and wait for that impression to change.

Once the cold air hit them, Chandler was suddenly powered by a burst of energy. She held up the rocket in the air, letting go of Mac to hold it with both hands.

“It’th taken off!” she declared, stumbling backwards. Mac watched the rocket fly with hazel eyes sparkling with excitement. As Chandler let it fly through the air, she let out a sound that was at least somewhat similar to the fire that blasted from the rocket’s end.

“Where to fiw- _firth-t_ , Mac?”

“ _Jupiter,_ ” she replied.

“Jupiter we go!” Her pace sped up as she continued to walk backwards. She glanced at Mac, about to ask her another question, before she saw her expression turn into one of worry as she looked towards somewhere behind her.

“Oh no, ith there an ath-teroid coming?” she gasped. It was as Mac shook her head and lifted her hands, ready to sign something to her, when her heel caught on something, throwing her backwards. She yelped in pain as she hit the concrete floor, her elbows burning after scraping over the rough surface. At the very least, she didn’t hit her head, but her dress was bound to have dirt on it. That fact struck her with panic - her parents had _just_ cleaned it from her last incident of getting dirty… they’re not going to be happy.

Rubbing her elbows to try and soothe the pain, Chandler looked at her feet, wondering what it was that had tripped her over. She knew the playground well enough that there was nothing in her path, so what had-

“ _Ha!_ Did you see that, Kurt?”

Dread immediately filled her as she connected the dots.

“Whoops! Sorry about that,” Ram added, though the mischievous grin on his face and the constant snickering was enough for her to tell that it was not a genuine apology.

“You twipped me over!” she fired back, biting back a wince in touching what she realised was an open cut, and in stealing a quick glance at her fingertips, she saw droplets of blood.

“ _You twipped me over_ ,” Ram repeated mockingly, making her feel hot with embarrassment. “You should have watched where you were going.”

“You did that on _purpo-th-e,_ ” she argued.

“ _Thhh!_ ” he replied, biting down on his tongue. She knew the sound was exaggerated, but the strain he put on his voice and the visible spit that sprayed from his mouth made her curl up with shame.

As she tapped her arms nervously, she heard a slight scraping sound from behind her, and when she whipped her head around, she saw Kurt lifting up the rocket off the ground, where she had dropped it. She gasped.

“Give that back!”

“Why?” he sneered. “You shouldn’t even have this outside!” He pulled a tongue at her. “You’re gonna get in _trouble_.”

Chandler growled. “ _Actually_ , Mr-th Dunn-th-tock let u-th take it outthide!”

Kurt’s smirk dropped.

“Why?” he said. “What makes you two so special?”

Chandler frowned and shrugged.

“It-th our-th. Give it back.”

Kurt glanced at the toy rocket for a moment, then back at her.

“You’ll have to catch it first!” he jeered, dangling it above her, beyond her reach. Chandler stared up at it helplessly, not even sure if she wanted to bother getting back onto her feet. It had been about three minutes, and she had already lost the rocket. They didn’t even get to land on Jupiter.

She felt her throat begin to tighten as the rocket continued to be held above her, when Kurt was suddenly tackled by someone. She was quick to recognise it as Mac, who had shoved her whole body weight into him. She quickly managed to scramble back onto her feet to grab the rocket, which was in a loose grip due to the shock of being thrown onto the floor. Kurt, disorientated, had to look around to check what it was that had knocked him over.

“Hey!” he barked, leaping back onto his feet. “Give it back, weirdo!”

Mac hugged the rocket, shaking her head.

“Mac catched it,” Chandler said. “So th-e keeps it.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes at her.

“Just because neither of you can talk doesn’t mean you’re special.”

His words cut into Chandler, hurting much more than her elbows did. She swallowed as her throat clamped up.

“Yeah,” Ram said with a chortle. “You two really need _toys_ because no one wants to be your friend?”

Chandler glanced at Mac, who had shrank a little, but still kept hold of the rocket as if it were treasure.

“Thay thorry, Wam.”

She realised her mistake in even _trying_ to say that sentence when the two boys burst out laughing.

“I don’t know who Wam is,” Ram said.

Chandler ignored the feeling of liquids building up in her eyes.

“ _Ram_ ,” she corrected herself. “ _Thh… thhhhay…_ ”

Her voice trailed off when she heard them both continue to laugh at her failed attempted to enunciate, her head hanging as she felt a teardrop flood over her eye and down her face. She quickly wiped it, but couldn’t hide a sniff.

“Aw, look!” Kurt jeered. “Heather’s gonna cry!”

 _No, no I’m not,_ she thought to herself, trying to hold in any sounds that may come out.

She wasn’t going to cry.

Not in front of them.

“You’re being really selfish,” Ram then said, glancing back and forth at the two of them. “You’ve _had_ your go at the rocket. It’s _our_ turn!”

“It’th _our_ rocket!” she snapped, making sure to yell the ‘r’ as she stood up, hoping her voice didn’t break.

“No it’s _not_!” Ram fired back.

“Just because you haven’t got a soul doesn’t mean you can keep everything to yourself!” Kurt added.

Chandler stared at him in confusion.

“I _do_ have a th-oul. Everyone doe-th!” At least, that’s what she could remember from church.

“Gingers don’t!” Kurt said, cackling. Ram also laughed along with him, leaving Chandler standing their, still, clutching her ginger locks tightly.

“What…?” is all she could whimper.

“I dunno why _she_ acts so weird though,” Ram said, glancing at Mac. “At least you have a reason.”

If that was supposed to be comforting, it failed miserably at doing so. Chandler continued to hold her hair in her hands, slightly pulling at it, rolling it between her fingers and thumbs.

First her not being able to talk, then her not being able to read, not being able to sit still or listen, and now _this_?

_It explains a lot._

It was at that moment that she gave up. She let go of her hair, spun around and darted towards the entrance to the school. She may have lost, but she was _not_ going to give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

She ran through some corridors while her hands vigorously wiped her eyes to clear her vision, and it was only when she stumbled into a bathroom - which was empty, thank goodness - did she let her tears freely fall.

With no one around, she saw no reason to hold back her sobs, and sauntered into a stall to rip off some tissue paper to dab on her elbows. She winced each time the rough paper touched her bruised, shredded skin, feeling a sharp stinging sensation shoot through her, but she definitely was not going to let any blood stain her dress. There was probably enough dirt covering it already.

As she continued to cry while attempting to clean herself up as best as she could without a mirror, she heard the bathroom door swing open, and close again. She froze, holding her breath, not allowing any sounds to escape.

In the dead silence, she heard little footsteps, as well as what sounded like something being placed on the counter next to the sinks, and then-

“ _Ah!_ ” Chandler yelped and stumbled backwards when the door to her stall suddenly swung open, but when she saw Mac on the other side, she relaxed a little.

“Oh,” she grunted, sniffing again. “Go away, Mac,” she murmured. “I don’t know why you wanna be with me.”

She took one last glance at Mac, who furrowed her brow in confusion, before turning away so she wouldn’t see the many more tears to come.

“They’re wight, you know,” she said through quiet sobs. “There i-th-n’t anything right about me. I can’t do _anything_ right.”

She heard Mac shift closer behind her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look back at her.

“At lea-tht now I know why no one like-th me,” she lamented. “No one in thith th-chool wanna talk to me. All the teacher-th yell at me.” She scrambled for more tissue paper to wipe her nose. “I’m alway-th breaking _th-ome_ th-ort of rule. Like picking flower-th or… or talking in cla-th.” She tossed her used tissues in the toilet. “And I can’t even talk right. My parent-th don’t even know what I’m th-aying half the time.”

Just thinking about the looks she was given from her parents, whether it be whenever she tried to tell them something, or came home with a muddy dress, or when she had to stand right next to them as a teacher told them of all the rules she had broken that day, or how much she was struggling. It wasn’t even a look that said, “I’m disappointed in you”. It was just so… so _blank_. Like they never expected anything from her in the first place.

“I just...“ she whimpered. “Kurt and Ram are right. Of cour-the no one love-th me. No one expect-th me to do _anything_ right, th-o why _would_ they?”

“But I do.”

Chandler sniffed. “That’th very ni-the of you to th-ay, but-”

She paused.

She _froze_.

And she spun around.

“You _what_?”

Mac, her lips pursed and her thumbs twiddling, eyes darting around nervously, gave the tiniest simper.

“ _Did I do something wrong?_ ” she signed.

All cries had left Chandler at that point, and she simply stepped forward and grabbed her by the shoulders.

“ _Mac_ ,” she said, awestruck. “You ju-tht _talked_.”

Mac slowly nodded.

“ _Yes_.”

“But- but I thought you couldn’t talk!”

Mac’s feet shifted. “ _I can. But I don’t._ ”

Chandler blinked. “Why not?”

She shrugged. “ _It’s hard_.”

“Like me?”

She shook her head. “ _I don’t know why_.”

“Oh.” Chandler felt a little disappointed at that, though she at least found comfort in the reminder that she was by no means the only person who had a lot of fingers pointed at her and laugh. Not that it was a good thing - she wished she could punch everyone who would _dare_ do that to her best friend - but at the very least, she wasn’t alone.

“But… if it’th hard… then why did you talk?”

Mac’s expression to one of timid to one of what looked like exasperation.

“Not my fault you weren’t looking at me!” she said. She _said_ . Out _loud_.

Chandler had heard her voice before. Whether it be in giggles or cries, she knew it was high-pitched. But now hearing it in an actual sentence - one with _words_ \- she could recognise it as… sweet. It was definitely high-pitched, though it was quiet and raspy. It sounded as if she had a cough or a sore throat, but regardless, it was _sweet_.

“ _I was trying to sign you!”_ she explained, signing again. “ _But you weren’t looking at me._ ”

Chandler let out an apologetic giggle. “Thorry,” she replied. “I didn’t want to cry in front of you.”

Mac let out a sigh. “And I was trying to tell you I love you. So you’re wrong.”

Chandler was taken aback by her bluntness, though she couldn’t take offense to it.

In fact, she was _very_ happy to be proven wrong.

She began to smile widely, her eyes filling up with one last tear, though they weren’t made from sadness. They felt much _warmer_.

She launched forward, almost pushing Mac over as she embraced her into a tight hug.

“I love you too!” she exclaimed. “You’re my be-th-t friend!”

“You too,” Mac whispered hoarsely in her ear.

In feeling the hug being reciprocated, Chandler didn’t want to part from her. She never wanted to leave the one person who she trusted to stick by her, and to tell her that there was at least _one_ person who understood her.

“You can tru-th-t me too, you know,” Chandler then said, resting her head on her shoulder.

Mac’s head shifted next to her.

“I mean, I tru-th-t you a lot. You can do that too. With me.”

Mac gave a small giggle.

“Okay.”

Chandler smiled, feeling the tears that stained her cheeks begin to dry up. She looked forward, and noticed something on the counter in front of her.

“Rocket!” she exclaimed. “We need to get to Jupiter th-till!”

She parted from the hug and went to grab the rocket off of the counter. “We th-till have time!”

She looked back at Mac, who gave an approving nod.

“Let-th go!” she exclaimed, scurrying out of the bathroom with Mac following close behind.

They may only have five minutes left, but to them, that was all they needed to get where they wanted to go.

 _I can do this,_ Chandler told herself. _I can get to Jupiter._

They both ran through the hallways, the rocket splitting through the air as they blasted towards the daylight in front of them. Chandler glanced at Mac running by her side, and she grinned with confidence.

_We’re going to go to Jupiter together, no matter what anyone says._

* * *

A glance at her swatch. 3am.

Not an uncommon sight for Veronica. Especially these past few nights that had been full of studying, smoking and gulping down every caffeinated drink in the house.

And right now, she was lazily reading over a psychology textbook. Knowing next week would be full of exams, she better fit as much studying into every waking moment as she could. And luckily for her, she had a lot of awake moments.

“Why the _fuck_ are you studying at 3am.”

Jerking her head up from her arms, she glanced over to the chair that JD had been lying on. Though it was extended forward so he could lie down, he had still been curled up in a tight ball, like a black cat with its tail wrapped around itself protectively. He was still in that position, only now his head was upright. Thank God he didn’t have reflective pupils, or he would literally just be a fucking black cat.

“It’s more productive than lying here and staring at the ceiling,” she replied.

“Sleeping is productive.”

“Unfortunate that my body doesn’t agree,” she sighed, pressing her cheek against the back of her hand and muffling her voice ever so slightly. “Also, you’re awake, so I don’t think you’re one to talk. Unless you just woke up or something.”

“Actually, I’ve been awake for the past hour or something.”

Veronica stared at him.

“You have been completely _still_ ,” she said. “I thought you were asleep.”

“That was the idea,” he replied. “I figured I’d be a distraction for you if I was awake, but I’ve just been listening to you turning pages for ages, so fuck it. Hello.”

“Hi?” She arched a brow. “Why are you still awake?”

“I woke up,” JD said. “And then didn’t fall back asleep.”

Veronica blinked at him.

“I mean, fair.” She lifted herself up from lying on her stomach. “I try and sleep, and then I don’t.”

“Nice. I get night terrors and then refuse to sleep again.”

Dead silence fell on them both.

“You wanna talk about it?” Veronica asked, feeling as though she should be concerned. JD rolled his eyes.

“No,” he said. “It’s been happening for years. There’s nothing left to talk about, other than just mentioning that it happens.”

Veronica shifted herself so that she was sitting up, knees tucked under her chin so that her head could lazily rest on them.

“If it makes you worry less, I used to have like… no control over it,” he added. “I’ve become a lucid dreamer over the years. I’ve been doing better.”

“That’s good?” Veronica furrowed her brow. “But why do you get them, if you don’t mind me asking?”

JD hesitated for a moment, making Veronica wonder if she had made a mistake.

“It’s a symptom of PTSD,” he stated. “And I find it ironic that Heather knew about me having it before you did.”

She blinked, taken aback.

“I’m sorry, what?”

He gave a snicker. “I kinda blurted it out to her off-handedly the other day,” he explained. “She also knows I’m bi. I’ve given that bitch too much power.”

Veronica stared at him, dumbfounded.

“I mean… you know she’s not straight, so-”

“Oh, yeah, don’t worry about me.” He gave a complacent grin. “I can make her worst fear come true. She won’t bother me.”

She gave an amused smile. “I wouldn’t let her anyway,” she murmured. “But um… PTSD, huh?” she said, changing the topic. “That must be rough.” She gazed off into the darkness of the room. “Afraid my anxiety doesn’t really do that much justice.”

“Are you trying to have a dick measuring contest using our mental health issues?”

Veronica nodded. “Yes, and so far, in both of my friendship groups, I have lost every time.”

JD was quiet for a moment.

“Are the Heathers _actually_ okay?”

With one thoughtful hum and a moment to ponder, she replied,

“Nope.”

“That oddly makes me feel like my life is not as unstable as I usually think it is,” he said with contempt. “Also, not that I think having PTSD is in any way _‘superior’_ to anxiety, but I will absolutely take an opportunity where I win a dick measuring contest.” He gave her a blank expression. “I’d love a dick. Both on me and in me.”

Veronica had to take a moment to process what he had just said.

“You look confused,” he then said before she could put the puzzle pieces together.

“I am.”

“Neat, that means I pass.”

“Pass?” Veronica echoed, trying to think what he-

“Oh, _pass!_ ” she exclaimed as loud as she could without waking Betty and Martha. Her eyes widened in surprise. “You’re trans?” she asked. “I had no idea.”

“Betty literally mentioned my binder before,” he said. Veronica blinked at him cluelessly, and he sighed. “It’s something trans guys - or otherwise, say if you’re up in yags - will wear to flatten their chest?” He gestured to his torso.

“ _Oh_ ,” Veronica nodded in understanding. “I wouldn’t know. The only trans person I know is a woman.” She gestured to Betty.

“Fair,” JD grunted. “Well, now you found another one. Congratulations.”

She gave a small chuckle. “Thanks?”

“ _Though,_ ” he then said, straightening himself up in his chair a little. “Speaking of- actually…” He cut himself off and squinted at the two sleeping girls. “Hey, Betty, Martha, you awake?”

Veronica glanced over to her side. The two of them were huddled up on the couch next to each other, Martha on her back and Betty comfortably snuggled up on her side next to her, one hand on Martha’s arm, looking as though there had been a grip there at some point that had simply loosened as she fell unconscious.

“Pretty sure they’re not,” she said.

“You sure?”

She glanced back over to him. “I’ve known them for years and have shared many sleepovers. I can tell when they’re asleep.” She took a moment to pay attention to the light snoring coming from Martha. “And I would say they are.”

JD shot her a skeptical look.

“To be on the safe side, come over here.” He gestured for her to move over to where he sat. “And don’t make any noise.”

Veronica raised a brow, but didn’t question his motives. Carefully, she slipped off of the make-shift bed they had made out of the pull-out couch, making sure not to elbow anything on the way, then silently gliding over to JD’s chair.

“You can sit if you want,” he offered, even though there was no space to give her.

“Where? On the floor?”

“Just be creative. I don’t care.”

Veronica, considering her options for a moment, decided to follow her impulses and go with the first position that came to mind. Call her invasive, but she figured sitting on one arm of the chair and creating a bridge with her legs across JD and her feet securely placed on the other arm would indeed be ‘creative’.

“So, what’s up?” she said, gazing down at him with curiosity.

“Okay, well,” he began with a whisper, seemingly unphased by the seat she had chosen for herself. “Have you noticed anything… different about Betty lately?”

Veronica cocked her head back over to Betty.

“Other than everything that wasn’t there before when I saw her four years ago?” she asked. “No.”

“Really? Nothing at all?” JD narrowed his piercing blue gaze at her, raking through Veronica as though to try and pick out _something_ from her. Feeling as though there was indeed something she should be looking for, her tired brain took a moment to think.

“Um…” she clicked her tongue as she flickered through all her recent interactions with her. “I mean…” Finally, she landed on one that, at the time, she had thought was slightly odd, but had since brushed off. “I guess? Maybe a tiny bit?”

“What have you noticed?” She’d call that a question, but with how his intonation fell into a deeper tone, she’d call this more of an interrogation.

“I dunno! I guess the other day she was a little distant? Is that the right word?” She shrugged. “Only after Martha left though. She was kinda staring after her, I guess.”

“ _Exactly,_ ” JD said, reaching up to grip her shoulders. Veronica tensed up, unsure as to what any of this meant.

“I have no idea what you’re getting at.”

“Veronica, Betty is _so_ gay for Martha,” JD breathed. “I know you don’t hang out with us very often, but just… trust me on this one.”

Veronica stared back at him, lost on what to say. Her jaw hung open, ready to say something to dismiss the theory, though in looking back over to the two of them, and how Betty was basically snuggling Martha in her sleep…

“She… did tell me she was into sweet girls,” she mused.

“Exactly,” JD said. “Martha is probably the sweetest girl in Westerburg. Granted, a very low bar to pass, but _still_.”

“Yeah, I know what you…”

Holy shit.

“Holy _shit_ ,” she gasped, her hands on her face and eyes wide. “She has a fucking crush on Martha!” Her fingers ran through her hair as her brain continued its attempt to truly take in this revelation. “She literally _told_ me she was into sweeter girls - than yours truly - _while_ looking at Martha!”

“ _See?_ ”

“I _do_ see!” She cupped his face. “You’ve opened my eyes, Jason Dean.”

“You’re welcome.”

“But… wait,” Veronica said, her hands dropping. “Isn’t Martha straight?”

JD let out a dismissive huff, rolling his eyes. “Who said she was?”

“She had a crush on Ram for years.”

“So?” JD snorted. “How many guys has Heather Chandler fucked, again?”

Veronica froze, finger in the air, ready to defend her opinion, only drooping when she thought of no usable argument.

“Okay _fair_ ,” she grunted. “I feel like as a bisexual myself, I should have figured.”

“It’s okay, we live in a heteronormative society and all have self-hating homophobic baggage to deal with.”

“I- sure. I’m sure I do.”

“So with that note, Martha is definitely not straight.”

Veronica tilted her head, giving a doubtful huff. “What gives you the impression?”

“She’s nice.”

In an attempt to mute her laughter, her palm slammed onto her mouth.

“Not entirely accurate,” she quipped, snickering. “I know two Heathers who are gay.”

JD let out a thoughtful hum, itching his chin.

“Are they nice to you?”

Veronica fluttered her lashes at him, taking a moment to consider his question.

“Well… yes,” she eventually replied with a half-hearted smile. “Even more so lately,” she added, her mind drifting to every laugh she had been able to share with the group over these past few weeks. “I just wish…” The corners of her mouth dropped. “I knew why they were so selective in who they open up to.”

JD gave her a blank stare, before he suddenly shuffled over to the side, pressing himself against the arm of the chair.

“You don’t look comfortable up there,” he said, patting the tiny space next to him. “Sit here if you like.”

Veronica gave one look at the small gap he was offering, and gave him a skeptical look.

“You sure you won’t be crushed?”

He huffed. “Call it snuggling.”

She couldn’t help but give a simper, before she caved in and readjusted herself to be squeezed in between the arm of the chair and JD’s side. In being so close to him, she caught a whiff of cigarette smoke and some other scents that were so tangled together that she couldn’t possibly name them all with accuracy.

“Why are you _still_ wearing your trenchcoat?” she asked, letting her chin rest on his shoulder. She was shot a defensive side-glint in response.

“It’s _comfortable_ ,” he retorted, before reaching into the inside of his coat to rummage around in it, followed by him pulling out an open packet of what Veronica, in the very dimly lit room, could make out to be candy of some sorts.

“You want some liquorice?” he asked, slipping a black tube out of the packet. Veronica, too tired to question why he seemed to have many pocket dimensions inside his trenchcoat, gave a curt nod.

“Yeah, what the hell,” she replied, grabbing one for herself and biting into the bitter tasting candy.

The two of them sat in silence for a while, nibbling on the liquorice and cuddled up against each other. Veronica could say they were forced to do so, but it was her own personal choice to take up the offer of sitting next to him.

And when she felt JD’s head lean against her own, she couldn’t help but feel warm inside. Not necessarily warm and fuzzy, with her heart leaping around in excitement. Just… comfortable. Similar to that feeling when you’ve had a long day, and you can finally let yourself crash onto a soft, comfortable mattress, sinking into it and allowing yourself to wrap your blanket around you until you’re living in a cocoon.

“Thanks for everything, by the way,” she murmured against his shoulder.

“For what?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. It’s just been nice to talk to you, I guess.” She smiled up at him, even though she was unable to catch his eyes as he looked forward. “Just spending time with you in general is nice.”

He eventually turned his head towards her.

“I appreciate that,” he said, though his tone was ever so slightly different. Veronica was used to a flat, emotionless tone, but beneath those words, she could hear a sense of gratefulness.

“So,” he then said, completely shifting the topic. If she were to take a guess, Veronica assumed that a sappy, emotional discussing wasn’t up his alley, and she giggled to herself.

“Mhmm?”

“Updates about the Heathers. Give me some,” he said. Letting out a long, exasperated sigh, Veronica searched for somewhere to start.

“Well,” she began, shifting herself so that her legs would rest over his, allowing them the space they needed. “So Heather and Heather are still arguing-”

“Yellow and red?”

“Yep,” she said, nodding. “And God, I just want them to make up.” The back of her head hit the chair behind her.

“And I hope they want the same.”

* * *

“Remember, thith ith our little thecret!”

Chandler hushed her as they huddled closer under the fortress they had constructed out of white and pastel pink blankets and pillows they had found in Chandler’s room. While forts were now a common occurrence, Mac knew that adding a TV to the mix was quite _rebellious_. The fact that they had managed to get away with moving it onto the floor - despite the loud crash it had made when it slipped out of their tiny hands - made her giddy with excitement.

Well, it wasn’t just the fact that they were able to huddle up under a fort, locking the world outside as they gazed at the screen in front of them, that made her jitter with anticipation. It took all her strength to not kick her legs and flap her arms openly, as she knew that Chandler could pick up on a particularly good mood whenever that happened. No no, she was going to keep the other thing a _surprise_.

“Why do you love Bambi tho much, anyway?”

Mac turned her attention towards the two young deer hopping about on the screen. How Bambi, hardly speaking a word, let out a strained “hello” to Faline, and how Faline giggled and squealed and bounced around in excitement.

“I like Faline,” she replied.

“I like her too!” Chandler said, her voice slightly muffled by her tongue as it glided over her blue braces. She’d had them for a little while now, and despite that, Chandler would still gaze in the mirror at them, showing Mac her new look and prod them with her fingers. “Bambi’th really cute though.”

Mac smiled, though before she remembered to respond with an audible agreement, she was distracted by the frequent giggles Faline would let out as she poked her head out of different angles of the reeds that surrounded Bambi sitting in a pool, whilst Bambi tried to catch her as she disappeared and reappeared. While she’d seen the film many times before, she never wanted to miss a scene.

“My teeth feel weird,” she heard Chandler say, voice still muffled. “I don’t know why.”

“Braces,” Mac suggested.

“Yeah, but, I mean…” She pursed her lips tightly. “I dunno, they’re different.”

“Weird,” she said, unconsciously tapping her fingers on the carpet in a fast motion. “What’s your favourite thing about Bambi?” she then asked.

“Hmm…” Chandler hummed, resting her chin on her knees tucked up against her. “Bambi ith really cute,” she then said. “And the th-torm ith very cool.”

Mac widened her eyes at her, and Chandler covered her mouth.

“Oh yeah, you don’t like the th-torm part.”

Mac shook her head. “ _I never have._ ”

Chandler gave a look of compassion, before putting an arm around her.

“Don’t worry, it can’t hurt you!” she reassured her with a smile. “Th-omtime-th you feel like th-omething ith really happening, but actually it’th not real!” She linked her arm with her own. “Remember, you’re in a fort with me! The th-torm won’t be able to get you here.”

Mac gazed at her, feeling her nerves relax at the thought of being next to Heather rather than in the middle of a thunderstorm. Even more so, she had to hold back reaching into her pocket and grabbing the item in there and handing it over. She didn’t want to give it to her quite yet.

But in watching the film further, the storm scene inevitably began. She knew how it began by now - she’d seen it many times. Just a few drops of rain on leaves, only to be followed by a loud _CRASH!_

Thunder would clap along with the music, animals fleeing from the pouring rain and lightning. And as much as Mac tried to remind herself that it wasn’t real, the sounds and the visuals were enough for her to curl up, shutting her eyes and covering her ears.

It was only when she felt herself being tugged to the side did she open one eye, seeing Chandler offering a hug, whilst signing,

“ _It’s okay!_ ”

Mac gave a sheepish smile, keeping her hands in place, but opening both eyes confidently.

“ _It’s not real,_ ” she continued, taking a gentle hold of her arms. “ _You’re with me!_ ”

She blinked at her, giving a small nod.

 _I’m with you_ , she repeated in her head. _And I really want to stay with you!_

With a moment of consideration, she dared to allow her hands to leave her ears, the storm of the film thankfully ending, and straightening herself up.

“ _I have something to give to you,_ ” she signed gingerly. Chandler raised her brows and released her, leaning forward slightly.

“A gift?” she gasped, and Mac nodded. She let out a high pitched squeak as her hands bounced up and down. Seeing her excitement, Mac reached into her little pocket in her black dress, pulling out a tiny black box, about the size of her hand. Chandler’s eyes sparkled as she stared at it.

“What ith it?” she asked, leaning closer to it, nose inches away from the box. Mac let out a giggle, staring at the box for a while, before placing her hand on the lid.

About a second passed before she finally flicked it open, and inside, she revealed a shiny, golden ring with a red crystal securely embedded right in the middle. With a closer look, there were visible patterns ingrained in the gold material, ones that Mac could stare at for ages in fascination.

“A ring?” Chandler said, breathless. “It’th really pretty…”

“People give other people rings when they care a lot about them,” Mac explained, moving it closer to Chandler. “Dad told me it shows commitment.” Feeling herself growing warm, she gazed at the floor. “And I would like to stay close to you, and I care a lot about you. So I thought I should give you a ring.”

A brief pause. Then,

“Mac, that’th called a propothal.”

She looked up, confused. She was still holding a smile, at least, though something in her expression had changed ever so slightly.

“Hm?”

“A propothal ith how people get married!” Chandler said, laughing. “The commitment part ith becoming their wife forever and ever.”

The realisation struck panic within Mac, and she almost dropped the box. She did lower it, taking a moment to wonder what to do next.

She was sure this was probably not right. A ‘proposal’ is not exactly what she had in mind - just everything surrounding it!

“I’m only theven, and you’re eight, tho I think getting married ith not allowed,” Chandler chuckled. Her statement stung, despite the humour Mac could hear in her voice when she laughed. She was being turned down…

“But I would love to stay with you.”

Her head jerked up to meet her blue eyes, feeling surprised.

“ _You still want it?_ "

Chandler’s brow furrowed.

“Of cour-th!” She picked the ring out of the box, letting it fall onto her finger. It was far too big for her tiny hand, but it let her roll it around her fingertip in circles, at least. “I care loadth about you too, and I want to stay close to you too!” She clutched the ring and held it against her chest. “I’m about ath committed to you as a wife, and I would love to keep it!”

A light, fluttery feeling bloomed in Mac’s chest, and a wide smile formed.

“I’m happy,” she said. “Because I want you to be my friend,” she giggled a little, “forever and ever.”

Without a second thought, she flung herself forward to embrace her in a hug, one which Chandler was quick to return. And as Mac let herself get lost in the comforting feeling of the embrace, resting her head on her shoulder and blowing some strands of messy, curly hair out of her face…

“Wait…” she murmured. “Speak again,” she commanded, gripping her shoulders and moving back to stare at her.

Chandler, with a blank stare, hesitantly opened her mouth.

“Why?” she asked. “What did I say?”

**Author's Note:**

> we're getting engaged but not in a gay way or anything lmao
> 
> https://heathersgameoftag.tumblr.com/


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